


All is Fair in Love and Death Threats

by thus_strangely



Category: A Very Potter Musical Series - Team StarKid, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Post-War, Slow Burn, The Golden Trio, Trauma, draco is...trying his best, mlm, painfully slow burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:47:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 75,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26308066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thus_strangely/pseuds/thus_strangely
Summary: When Draco Malfoy is pardoned for his war crimes, he removes himself from the world of magic he once knew. A letter from Headmistress McGonagall changes everything, and Draco finds himself back at Hogwarts for his eighth, and final, year. Draco finds friendship, love, and forgiveness, but will a series of threatening letters take it all away again?
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter (one sided), Gregory Goyle/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 29
Kudos: 78





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfic was a labor of love born from a roleplay I had with my high school best friend. We loved A Very Potter Musical just as much as we did the canon, and this seemingly crack pairing emerged from some of the fantastic moments between AVPM’s Draco and Gregory. Though we no longer speak to each other, I dedicate this fic to the girl I once knew and the awesome friendship we shared. 
> 
> Shout out to my awesome Betas, Amber1015 and ShadowHeart175! You guys kept me sane.
> 
> The characters and universe in this work are property of J.K Rowling.

To say that the Second War was hard on Draco Malfoy would have been a gross understatement. There had been too many times in those two years when he had wished he was hiding out in the woods with Potter and his annoying friends rather than imprisoned in his mansion with his aunt and her Death Eater cronies. Although he had not seen the Dark Lord often during that time, the encounters he did have were enough to fuel his most terrifying nightmares. Merlin, the nightmares. Draco didn't get much sleep these days, but when he did, it was marred by horrific memories recalled in vivid detail. The eyes of the dead, the splatter of blood, the terrible thump of bodies that crumpled to the ground like rag dolls in the wake of the Dark Lord all haunted him mercilessly when he closed his eyes.

Draco was convinced he would have lost his mind in that damned house if Potter hadn't turned up at Hogwarts when he did. The battle itself was horrifying. Draco had tripped over the body of a peer only to slip in the blood of another more times than he could count. They had been strewn about the castle's floor as if they meant nothing. Losing Crabbe was what finally did him in. Even after he and his friends had tried to kill Potter, that selfless idiot had saved Draco from the fyre. Draco found he often wished it had been him who had perished instead, but he had made up his mind in that moment – if he ever had the chance to, he would help Potter destroy the Dark Lord. For the first time in the last three years, Draco had felt hope stir in his chest. That growing hope was dashed when the groundskeeper carried Potter's body across the drawbridge.

Crabbe was dead. Potter was dead. Draco could see no point. So, when his parents urged him to their side, back to the Dark Lord, Draco went. He wanted to run away. He wanted to cry like a child and bury his face in his mother's cloak, but instead he strode across the courtyard to stand by his family. When his father put an arm around him, he shrugged it off with a jerk.

But then Potter was moving. No, he was running. He was alive. Draco was running after him with a cry, snatching Potter's wand straight from the Dark Lord's hand and throwing it to his old foe. Draco did this despite knowing that the Dark Lord would kill him for his recklessness, but he would not be given a chance to. Potter was escaping, and Mother was pulling Draco out of harm's way with an iron grip. As his father lingered, torn, Draco and his mother walked away from the battle hand in hand. He was damaged, but alive. Broken, but still breathing. It was a more merciful escape than Draco could have ever dreamed for.

That day had played in the back of Draco's mind since he'd returned home, so much so that he did not think he would ever be able to forget any part of it. He had been home for a month, longer than he had expected to wait for their trial, and the owl that brought the family post that morning informed them that their wait would soon be over. Each of their trials were scheduled back to back, with commencing with Draco’s at noon the next day. Draco locked himself in his room after the notice arrived, pacing the floor like a mad man and muttering a phrase softly under his breath.

"Not mother, not mother, not mother," and on and on this mantra left his lips like a prayer.

He felt as though his stomach was going to shove itself out through his throat. Draco had no doubt that they were going to Azkaban, the lot of them, and he knew that it was incredibly unlikely that any of them would ever get out. After the fear that enveloped the country had dissipated, all that was left was rage, and people just wanted someone to blame for all of it. Not that Draco thought he didn't deserve it, nor his father, but his mother did not. All she had wanted was to protect him. Father hadn't given her any other choice. Draco hoped that the Wizengamot would take that into consideration.

Draco spent the rest of that night and the entirety of the next morning chanting that prayer in his mind. As long as his mother was free, he would be happy. When Draco dressed that morning, he pulled on his best robes and stood in front of the bathroom mirror to fix his hair. His mother entered quietly, and he pretended not to notice the tremors in her hands as she carefully took the gel from him.

"May I, love?"

Her voice was too soft, and it broke Draco's heart. He nodded, not trusting his own voice enough to speak, and sat down in the chair she conjured for him. Plush and expensive, the chair was more ornate than it had to be, and Draco felt her love through it. Her touch was gentle as she pulled the comb through his hair, and if Draco closed his eyes, he could almost pretend they were just getting ready to drop him off at Platform 9 ¾. He did not dwell on these wishes when they brought tears to his eyes. Draco knew she was finished when her hands squeezed his shoulders, and she was gone before he could open his eyes. With a shaky breath and legs that felt too weak to support him, Draco left the bathroom to join his parents on the steps of their manor.

Draco and his father did not speak when the ministry official came to pick them up, nor did they speak in the car on the way there. As if in defiance of this, his mother closed her hand around his own, and he laid his head upon her shoulder. When they arrived, to Draco's immediate alarm, they were separated, and as Draco slipped his hand from his mother's he felt his resolve weaken.

If it followed the precedent set by those of the Death Eaters sentenced before him, this trial would end hastily and not at all in his favour. With this thought in mind, Draco entered the courtroom and tried to muster as much pride as he could. A blank expression would not reflect the bile rising in his throat, but no matter what Draco tried, he could not stop the tremors that shook his hands without respite. Approaching the chair atop the platform with stiff-backed grace, he had only barely sat down when the doors to the courtroom opened. Draco's stomach sank as Potter approached the court. In his shock, Draco had not noticed the bindings that wrapped around his arms and legs until they were already in place. He lunged against them regardless of the futility facing him as panic rose past the bile in his throat. If he had any chance of walking out of there before, he was most certainly going to Azkaban now.

"Sorry I'm late," Potter smiled easily as he came to a stop in front of the Minister. "I've just come from Gregory Goyle's trial, I hope you don't mind?"

Gregory Goyle. The name generated another stab of guilt. He hadn't seen or spoken to his friend since the battle’s end, but he could not allow this added guilt to distract him from his own trial. After all, Draco knew that Potter's question was only a pleasantry. No one in their right mind said "no" to Potter these days. While Draco was no longer of the opinion that the fame went to his old enemy's head, he could see in times like this that Potter certainly did have a penchant for pushing the boundaries of what was allowed. Even if the Wizengamot wanted to refuse him, it would be foolish to do so. After all, with a testimony from the Chosen One, it would be easy for them to justify putting Draco away for life. Draco considered all of this with a stone-still expression, grey eyes following Potter's movement across the courtroom.

"Very well, Mr. Potter, you may provide your testimony. But let us at least get through the charges," the prosecutor, a woman with a rather pinched nose, tittered and looked for all intents and purposes as though she'd forgotten that Draco's future hung in the balance.

Draco was sure to mask the storm raging inside his head as Potter glanced back at him. He was expecting to see hate, or even smugness behind Potter's eyes, but Draco was surprised to find only calm as Potter nodded to him. He watched as Potter stood back, before his eyes flew towards the prosecutor in front of him.

"Mr. Draco Lucius Malfoy, born June fifth, nineteen eighty, is present today on counts of high treason, the attempted murder of Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore, aiding and abetting Voldemort in his crimes, sheltering Voldemort from the authorities, the illegal use of the Cruciatus curse – " the list continued on, and Draco was tempted to slump in his seat with each stacked charge.

Draco could remember in vivid detail each circumstance the prosecutor brought forth, along with the repercussions each crime laid upon him. He could remember each night spent in his room, wondering whether tomorrow would be the day that crazed man finally snapped and killed his family. Most days, Draco couldn't have been sure the Dark Lord was a man. He had exuded an evil that made Draco cower like a child, so much so that even a remnant of the thought of the Dark Lord left Draco shivering. Yes, he could remember committing those crimes under the direction of the Dark Lord. His eternal punishment was that he would remember them for the rest of his life.

When the prosecutor finally got to the end of the list, she turned to Potter with a simpering smile and gestured for him to step back into the light. One sentence from Potter, and Draco knew he and his whole family were done. He couldn't blame him; Draco knew where he belonged. His eyes trailed Potter as he moved to stand beside Draco, and he could not help but flinch away from his future.

"I would like to remind the Wizengamot that, were it not for sacrifices performed by Mr. Malfoy, Voldemort may still be at large today."

Draco's head turned so sharply to look at Potter that he heard his spine pop. His mind was playing tricks on him. Surely Potter hadn't just said –

"And that, due to these sacrifices, Draco Malfoy made it possible for me to defeat Voldemort. When my friends and I were briefly held captive at Malfoy Manor, it was Draco Malfoy that bought us the time to get out by denying that he recognized me. In the Battle of Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy switched sides and fought with his peers against Voldemort's army. Not only did Draco Malfoy return to our side, but he looked Voldemort in the face and retrieved my wand from his hands. The very wand I used to defeat Voldemort was restored to me by Draco Malfoy. Since that time, Draco Malfoy has stayed put in his home and made no further contact with our missing Death Eaters. Draco Malfoy has kept himself beyond suspicion in the time following the battle, a fact we cannot overlook."

The Wizengamot had begun to grumble, a sign that did not look very good to Draco.

"We can all remember the crimes Draco Malfoy has committed, and you may very well decide to charge him for them. But the Wizengamot must also take into consideration what may have been lost if Draco Malfoy had not risked his life, and everything he had, in order to aid the wizarding world."

With a testimony such as this in Draco's defense, the Wizengamot had no choice but to drop his charges. Draco was completely dumbfounded. Why had Potter done that? Draco's sacrifices for him had not been great by any means. Didn't Potter hate him? Why had he not mentioned that Draco tried to kill him during the battle? Wouldn't he have been glad to see Draco rot in Azkaban? But Draco did not have time to ask these questions, for as the bonds released him and he rose from the chair, his mother was ushered in to take his place.

Draco's surprise increased further when Potter took the stand once again for his mother. Draco heard for the first time how his mother lied to the Dark Lord's face about Potter's escape from death, and how this alone had enabled Potter to return to the castle and defeat him. She too was cleared of all charges.

Then it was his father's turn, and as Draco and his mother stood off to the side, hands gripping each other tightly, Potter turned on his heel and left the courtroom. It was clear he would give no testimony in favour of Lucius Malfoy. Draco tried not to resent him for it – at least Potter had not stayed to testify against him – but it was hard to swallow the bitter feeling that rose in his throat. His mother cried when his father was sentenced, but she kissed Potter's cheek on her way out and pulled Draco along beside her before he had a chance to say a word.

That had been the end of May. Draco dropped off the grid immediately after the conclusion of his trial, and he did not resurface for the rest of that summer. He couldn't stand to be in that fast deteriorating cage. The beautiful home of his childhood had crumbled into the place of his darkest and most terrible memories. He'd spent the summer hiding out in a small flat run by muggleborns for wizards who wanted to be near muggle London, living off galleons his mother pretended not to notice were missing. Draco thought often about Crabbe, and then of Goyle. He felt terribly about not reaching out to his old friend, and he really had no excuse as they had both been pardoned for their crimes. However, the guilt and the thought of their shared loss had always stopped him.

Draco travelled some during his summer in exile, but he had mostly stayed at home, reading an array of muggle and wizard novels. Draco too had become fascinated by muggle clothes. There was a wizard-run shop that sold them near his flat, and if Draco went inside, he never came out empty handed. Of course, the dark blue jeans he bought did not compare in the slightest to the quality of his tailored trousers, but they were new, and they were different, and they did not remind Draco of a life he wished he'd never led. That, in Draco's opinion, made them far superior to any clothes he'd owned before.

Draco had also grown a fondness for muggle cinema. Though the plot lines seemed trivial, and most of their problems could simply have been solved with magic, Draco still enjoyed the change of pace immensely. There was no stuffy courtship between love interests, nor did there seem to be any rules at all when it came to the matter of love. Though it perhaps made him a sap, it was what Draco liked most about it. He spent as happy a summer as he could in the wake of the upheaval and terror, and his life had become almost uniform. The schedule did him good. Nothing unexpected, nothing out of place. But of course, this could not last forever.

Draco was watching the sunrise from a large chair by the window of his flat after a particularly bad nightmare when the owl arrived. A fire crackled cheerfully, despite the fact that it was mid-August, and Draco held a mug of tea in his hands as it steeped. The owl had come as a great surprise to him, as the only person who knew where he lived was his mother. They had no need for owl post – they communicated through the Floo every evening before she went to bed. Draco rose tentatively from his position to let the bird in. The poor thing looked exhausted, but flew away as soon as Draco removed the letter attached to its leg. Reading the contents of the letter, Draco sank into his chair and rubbed his temples.

_Mr. Draco Malfoy_ _12 Carrington Way_ _Apt. 9_ _London, England_

_To Mr. Draco Malfoy:_ _We are pleased to inform you that you have been invited back to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this term. We have added this term to our curriculum in order to supplement lessons missed last year and to allow you to take your N.E.W.T exams. This, as always, is in order to prepare you for success in our recovering society. Please let us know by owl if you accept this invitation by August 20th so that we may prepare accommodations for you._

_ Headmistress Minerva McGonagall _

This couldn't be happening, yet Draco could think of no other explanation. It was addressed to him, that was very clear. They wanted him back? Draco could see no explanation as to why, but there could be no mistaking their intentions. This strange twist left him with much to consider, and as he began pacing around his apartment, he came to realize that this choice was too difficult to make on his own. He couldn't discuss this with Goyle, not when he didn't know if he'd gotten an owl of his own, and so Draco made a large change to his daily routine. He went home.

When Draco apparated onto the steps of his childhood home, he was drenched by a wave of several intense emotions. Anger, sadness, and bitterness came to the front of his mind, but also nostalgia and longing. He could tell that his mother had employed another house elf. The manor looked just as it had when Draco still called it home, before those people had taken it and perverted it. He found that he still had to draw some courage as he paused outside of the door, but before he could raise a hand to enter, the door was opened for him.

A small house elf stood before him in a cheerful flowery dishrag. Though it was nowhere near proper clothes, it was much nicer than the dirty sacks he'd seen other house elves wear. Her head barely came to his knee, and she sported a small toothy smile underneath a button shaped nose. Draco could tell that his mother had picked this one herself.

"Minny is welcoming Master Draco home. Minny is to be waiting for Master Draco all the times now, Mistress always wants to be knowing if Master Draco is being home. Minny is going to make Master Draco tea now. Mistress told her how to do it, she knows what Master Draco likes."

Draco felt a smile pull at his lips in the presence of the chatty thing. She reminded him of Dobby, the house elf that had mysteriously disappeared after Draco's second year. He'd thought his father had killed the elf, but then, he also thought that he'd recognized it back when... Draco stopped. The memories of that day were too terrible to recall at present.

"Wait – Minny?" he called, trying to catch her before she disappeared completely. She ran back over eagerly and peered up at Draco with large eyes.

"How can Minny be helping Master Draco?"

"After you make the tea, could you locate my old school things? They may be in the basement still, but I'm not certain."

"Minny already is knowing where Master Draco's school things are! They are being in his room, where Mistress asked Minny to put them. Can Minny be doing anything else for Master Draco?"

"No, Minny. That's all."

Draco watched her scurry off with a small, warm feeling in his chest. His mother had been waiting for him all this time? He couldn't believe that she'd kept all his old school things. It was enough to bring a few tears to his eyes at the thought of how worried he must have made her. Draco paused by the table by the door, a letter addressed to him catching his eye. His stomach sank as he saw the sender, and Draco ripped it open with a growing sense of dread.

_ Draco Malfoy, _

_ How've you been? What've you been up to this summer? I know you've probably been too busy to answer my other letters, but this one's sort of important. My mum's not been doing well. Losing dad's been hard on her. She's sunk pretty low, but I'll spare you the details. I guess the reason I'm really writing is to ask if you've gotten a letter from Hogwarts? And if you have, do you think you'll be going back? I'd really like to hear your thoughts on all this. _

_ Gregory Goyle _

Draco's lips were pressed together by the end of the letter, his mind running in a million different directions. Though he had come here to discuss going back to school with his mother, he knew deep down that he had already decided to go back. He looked up at the date and frowned. It had been sent two days before; he was sure Goyle expected an answer sooner than he could send by owl. Draco nodded a bit to himself and reached for a scrap piece of parchment in the drawer of the desk, leaving a note for his mother before stepping back out onto the porch. He shut his eyes tightly and willed himself to the one place he knew he needed to be.

The sharp crack that accompanied apparition still struck fear into his heart, but Draco had overcome the side effects of nausea and headaches long ago. When he opened his eyes again, he was standing in the middle of his friend's basement bedroom, entirely unsplinched. He was suddenly unsure of the wisdom behind his impulsive decision, but still sat himself down on the bed to wait for his friend to come down. Draco found that it wasn't long until the door was pushed open, his hand resting on his wand in preparation for anything.

When Goyle first entered his room, it seemed as though he did not register that someone was there. He tossed a sauce stained shirt into his clothes bin before he stopped in his tracks and stared at Draco. Draco couldn't get an exact reading of the emotion on his face, but he was glad to see that it did not seem to be anger. He offered his old friend a weak smile and held the envelope up for him to see.

"Hello. So, I, um, got your owl. I figured there was probably a lot we needed to talk about. Ah, too much for me to write back? I, uh – " 

This had gone over a lot better in Draco's mind. In his vision, Goyle had been delighted to see him, and was not staring at him with unknown feelings. In his vision, Draco did not feel foolish for his rash choice.

"I'm sorry for falling off the grid like I did. It was selfish of me," he finally finished, a long silence stretching between the two as Draco looked down at his hands.

"I guess I understand. I probably would have done the same if it hadn't been for my mum," Goyle said after another long moment. "It's good to see you."

The words looked hard for him to say, but Draco knew that he was trying to cover up whatever it was lurking under the surface. Draco was both thankful and wishing he wouldn't. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed the taller boy until Goyle was standing before him. Draco looked up at him and picked incessantly at a loose string on his favourite muggle shirt.

"It's good to see you too. I'm sorry about your mum. I should have been there for you."

Draco let another long pause stretch between them before he spoke again, looking Goyle in the eye for the first time since he'd shown up.

"Do you think you'll go back? To Hogwarts, I mean."

Goyle took a moment to answer him, coming to sit on the edge of the bed next to Draco. He was looking down at his feet for what felt like a long time before he looked up at Draco.

"I'm not sure. It's more complicated than that for me. I would need to find someone to take care of my mum, and that's only if I decide that I want to go. I don't know if I can make myself go back there." He was quiet for another long moment before he turned completely toward Draco. "Are you?"

Draco nodded slowly and tried to squash his disappointment at Goyle's answer.

"Yeah, I am. And...please, don't think I'm trying to be insensitive, but have you thought about St. Mungo's? Even if you have, and you don't like it, I've got this other idea. It may not be the most ideal situation, but if you did decide you wanted to go back, my mother hasn’t had much to do since my father... you know. I'm sure she'd love to have your mum come stay with her."

Draco wanted this badly. He would go back to Hogwarts with or without Goyle, but he knew it would be so much easier if he wasn't alone.

"I had thought about Mungo's, but then she really did start to get better. She's just grieving, I think, but she's been getting out of bed, and we've even started to go on walks together. But actually… I think some time with your mum really would be good for her. Besides, you've already made up your mind, and it's not like I can let you go back there alone."

Draco couldn't help the smile that spread across his face.

"So, you'll go back then?"

"Yeah. I was really going back and forth on it. Mum was my biggest reason for not going – well, that, and thinking I'd be alone if I did go. You've just solved both of those problems for me."

"I must say, you've been a far better son than I have. I haven't visited my mother since the trials ended. I was going to go today, but then I got your owl. I've been living in a flat. We both thought it may be better for me to have some space."

"Don't feel guilty for what you've done to cope, Malfoy. We've all shut ourselves away in some fashion after the war."

Draco nodded, fiddling with the cuff of his sleeve before he looked back at his friend.

"Can I show you something? I haven't shown anyone else, and I want to see whether you think it'd be a good idea to show my mum. I sort of did it for her, but I don't want to mess things up when I actually see her."

"Of course, you can show me anything."

Draco nodded again, this time a bit nervously, before he pushed up the left sleeve of his shirt and flipped his arm over. There was nothing magical about the tattoo that covered his Dark Mark, but the Narcissa flowers that concealed the horrible reminder were pure against the evil they hid.

"I tried everything I could to remove it.” Draco brushed a finger across a few ugly raised lines hiding beneath the blooms. “But I couldn't get the damned thing off. Nothing else worked, so I went to a muggle tattoo parlour. I'd heard Granger talk about them once, and I got them to cover it up. Do you think she'll like it?"

"It's really beautiful. I think she'll love it."

A broad smile split Draco's face for the third time that day before he checked his watch. His hour was coming to a close.

"Listen, I really do have to go see my mother, but if you want, we can go shopping in Diagon Alley sometime this week? I'll even come pick you up."

"You don't have to do that – "

"Of course, I don't have to," Draco interrupted him with a small snort as he shook his head. "I don't have to do anything. I want to though. I've missed you a lot, and I fully intend on spending as much time together as possible before the train leaves. We've got to come up with a game plan for the year if we're ever going to survive."

"Then, yeah, that'd be good. I've missed you too. And I'm glad you're okay, by the way. At some point I seriously thought you were dead; I was pretty worried."

"I'm sorry."

Draco flinched as Goyle nudged him with an elbow, immediately hoping that the taller boy hadn't noticed.

"It's okay. Really. Now get out of here – and be looking for my owl this time."

"I'll have Minny forward any mail to my new address. I'll see you later then?" Draco asked hopefully.

"You will. Enjoy your time with your mum."

And, with a foreign warmth in his chest, Draco Malfoy was gone. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To my incredible Betas: Amber1015 and ShadowHeart175, you guys rock. Seriously.
> 
> The characters and universe in this work are property of J.K Rowling.

Draco sat folded up on Gregory's bed as he watched him pack up his trunk, his mind far away. He couldn't stop thinking about the strange letter that had been waiting for him when he'd returned to his flat. Draco was immediately on guard and had spent a long time prodding it with his wand to search out any sort of deception hidden within the envelope. Surviving the war had set Draco up for surviving what arrived in his post as well, and he knew it would pay to be cautious. He couldn't count the number of cursed letters he and his mother had been sent, but there was something different about this one. Draco thought he recognized the handwriting on the envelope.

He'd opened it once his curiosity got the better of him, but as he had almost expected, he immediately wished he hadn't. The writing was neat, but almost childish, and the language simple, but horrible. Draco remembered then where he had seen this handwriting. He'd received a letter similar to this one on his last day at home. Draco had brushed it off as another angry person pushing their hurt down under layers of anger, but with another letter arriving so long after the last, and to his flat no less, he was beginning to think differently. 

_Malfoy-_

_I know you got a letter from Hogwarts. I know what the letter says. Do not go back there this year. It is a gift you don't deserve. You should be in Azkaban rotting with your pitiful father, not being rewarded for your cowardice. If you go back to Hogwarts this year, you'll live to regret it._

_I'll be watching._

It unnerved him, but Draco would not be bullied by someone who lacked the courage to even sign their name. Even so, he had taken measures to not be alone since it arrived. He had been with Gregory a lot since then, and Draco was becoming hard pressed to split his time between moving out of his flat and being with his friend and mother. He had just finished packing up the last of his boxes and sent them home when he had apparated to meet Gregory. That was an hour ago, and Draco had kept quite still since then, arms around his legs and his cheek resting against his knees. Though he was rather comfortable, Draco could not sit by and do nothing as Gregory began trying to tie his tie. It was hopelessly lopsided with a rather bulgy knot halfway up it by the time Draco picked his head up and reached out his hand for it.

"Need some help?" he teased.

"Wait. Are you telling me that this is not the proper way to do a tie? I think it looks great," Gregory replied, trying to hold back a laugh but failing miserably.

Draco laughed with him, pushing himself to his feet and taking the tie from Gregory's hands. He unknotted it with nimble fingers before he reached out to drape it around Gregory's neck. Draco let his eyes flit up to meet Gregory's and gave him a small smile.

"There was this silly story my mother told me when she taught me how to do up my tie. It seems a little odd now, but it really does help. I say it in my head every time I do mine."

"Well, then, let's hear this magical story," Gregory smiled.

"Once, there was a rabbit and a fox. When the rabbit spotted the fox, he gathered his senses about him and bounded away with the fox snapping at his cottontail," Draco began, pulling the wide end lower than the narrow. "Once around the tree, the fox chased the rabbit," he continued, wrapping the wide end completely around the narrow, "then, twice around the tree they ran," around the wide end went again. "Trying to shake the persistent fox, the rabbit scooted under a bush," Draco said as he pushed the wide end through the neck loop. "The little rabbit got away!" The narrow end followed the wide. "And he dove right into the safety of his dark, cool hole." The wide end went through the knot loop, and Draco held the narrow as he adjusted it. Seeing it was perfect, he smoothed the tie down against Gregory's chest. "The end."

Gregory's eyes had followed Draco's hands with rapt attention, but he turned them up toward Draco’s face when they finally stilled. They held eye contact for a long moment before Draco realized his hand was still on Gregory's chest and removed it.

"Thank you, but I'm pretty sure the way I do it will catch on. It'll be the fashion craze of the year, you just wait and see," Gregory teased and pulled on the rest of his robes. They fit almost perfectly, but Gregory seemed to be growing endlessly, and they were an inch too short.

"Oh, please. Name three people who'd actually wear their ties like that, and I'll believe you."

Draco laughed and climbed back onto the bed as Gregory began taking the robes back off.

"Well, Weasley for sure. Potter practically wore his tie like that until Granger started doing it up for him, and-" the pause was brief, but enough for Draco to know that Crabbe had come to his mind. Draco couldn't blame him, he knew that if he were told to, Crabbe would have absolutely tied his tie that way. "Once they started it, others would follow without a thought."

"You forgot to count yourself," Draco added softly. "So, I suppose that does make three, doesn't it?" 

"I guess it does. It would be my trend after all. I swear there must be a spell by now for doing ties. Maybe I just slept through that one."

"There isn't, but I'll get right on it. Do you know how to undo it?"

"Please, Draco, you don't undo such a masterpiece. That knot'll last me through to the end of the year if I play my cards right," Gregory answered and loosened the tie, hanging it off the bed post once he had it slipped over his head.

"How astounding. Your creativity and sheer genius amazes me."

Draco was only half kidding. It hadn't been until fifth year that Draco realized just how clever Gregory could be. Growing up under his father's influence had led him to the opinion that his friends were idiots in need of guidance, but Gregory had certainly proved that that was not the case.

"Oh, sure, because avoiding the fact that I don't know how to tie a tie makes me a regular Nicholas Flamel or something."

Draco suddenly found something very interesting to look at on the wall behind Gregory when his friend took his dress shirt off. When had Gregory gotten so fit? And where had that thought come from? Draco needed to pull himself together immediately before he ruined this whole thing.

"Of course, it does. You're a genius among mortal men."

That was a completely normal thing to say to a friend, right? Gregory must have thought so, because he laughed and pulled a loose t-shirt over his head.

"Whatever you say, Draco."

"Did you still want to go into Diagon Alley today?" Draco asked as his eyes followed Gregory.

Gregory tossed him the robes he had just removed, and Draco folded them neatly before sticking them down into Gregory's trunk. Draco paused then, amazed once more at the drastic changes he had gone through. A year before, the thought of packing up someone else's trunk for them would have made him laugh. Be that as it may, Minny had already packed up his own and Draco missed the structure that came with doing it himself.

"Yeah, those robes aren't terribly short, but I'd like to get another set or two just in case I grow anymore."

"If you do, we may as well send you off to a giant colony. You're already ridiculously tall."

Gregory pulled a face and feigned hurt as he looked back at Draco.

"Ouch, Draco. I'm sorry we can't all be midgets like you."

"I'll have you know I am a perfectly normal height."

"Yeah, maybe for a muggle," Gregory teased. He looked a bit more serious before he hoisted his cauldron up into the trunk. "Speaking of muggles, I've been noticing that you – and don't think I'm criticizing you, but –"

"But you've noticed I've been dressing like one and talking about the things they do?"

"Yeah, I have. I'm not judging you or anything, but you used to hate muggles. What's brought on this change?"

Draco nodded as he mulled over this question. It was a fair one, and one that he had not expected to be able to avoid answering more than once.

"I sort of went on a magic detox after the war. Mind you, I still used it to get by, but after I moved into that flat it wasn't long before I went walking about in the city. I saw a lot there that I've never seen before. I met this guy in a pub, and I thought we became friends, but it turned out he was just looking for a shag. There is a surprising number of muggles like that. He showed me a lot of cool muggle stuff though."

"Yeah? Like what?"

"Well, movies for a start. Have you ever seen a movie? They're like portraits, only they don't speak back to you. They tell a story, and they don't stray from what they're supposed to say and do. No matter how many times I try to tell them that they're making the wrong choice, they still make it. Over and over again. It's really quite charming."

"That sounds pretty eventful. Is there anything else?"

"Muggle clothes! They're wonderfully cheap, and some of them are actually pretty good quality."

"Is that all the muggle world has to offer? Clothes and these...movies?"

"Of course not. But if I tried to tell you every single thing I learned about this summer, we'd be here for a year. That's the last of it, then?"

Draco watched as Gregory put some parchment in the trunk and shut the lid.

"That's all that I have on me. The rest we'll need to buy today."

...

The next two weeks blurred together as Draco prepared for his return to school. With September first creeping closer and closer, the young Malfoy was simply too busy with his preparations to make time for much else. On August thirty first Gregory came to drop his mother off, and the four of them had a lovely dinner prepared by Minny. Draco had asked if Gregory wanted to stay over and travel to King's Cross together, but as Draco had expected, his friend had not yet finished packing his new purchases.

And so, early on September first Draco arrived at King's Cross Station alone. He had not been expecting a warm welcome by any means. Draco had long since gotten used to the hate he saw on the faces of wizards – whether strangers or peers – but that did not stop him from shying away from their scrutinous glares. Draco kept his eyes straight ahead and his face blank. Because of this, it was no surprise Draco did not see the foot until it was too late, and the blond promptly fell on his face. He tried to ignore the laughter that started up behind him, palms scrapped and tingling. Draco couldn't tear his eyes away from the pavement below him as humiliation turned the back of his neck red.

"Oi, just what do you think you're doing?"

Draco cringed at the voice. He knew exactly who it belonged to. He waited for a blow to come, but when he finally looked up, Draco was surprised to see that he was not the target. His mouth fell slack when he realized Potter was standing between him and the boy who'd tripped him. The other boy was holding his jaw and looking at Potter with nothing short of fear, before he grabbed his trunk and ran away with his friends. Draco grew even more red when Potter turned around and he realized his mouth was still open. He took Potter's outstretched hand before he'd even fully thought it through and let himself be pulled to his feet.

"You alright there, Malfoy?"

"It's-uh-it's just Draco now," he stammered.

What was happening to him? Where had his poise disappeared to? Why had this one act of kindness turned him into a complete idiot? He didn't know the answers to any of these questions, but unless he figured it out soon, he would surely die of embarrassment.

"Right, then, Just Draco," Potter answered with a laugh. "I'll see you later."

"Hey, you okay?"

A voice asked from behind Draco, and he jumped when a hand dropped onto his shoulder. Why was everyone concerned about him all of a sudden? Draco let his guard down when he turned and saw Gregory.

"I'm fine. Just some dirt," he answered as he wiped his hands on his pants. "The usual car? Or do you want to shake things up and go rogue?"

"Let's go rogue. Sounds more dangerous."

Draco laughed and led the way onto the train. He found an empty compartment for them, shoving the door open and hoisting his trunk up onto the rack above his seat. They're quiet on the ride there, Draco too wrapped up in his thoughts to start a conversation. He wasn't surprised when he looked over and saw that Gregory had fallen asleep. Draco didn't wake him, and instead just sat with his back against the window to keep a lookout for the students wandering the corridors. He did not wake Gregory until the train began to slow, the two pulling on their robes before Draco stared out at the castle before them with a sense of foreboding.

"No turning back now, huh?" Gregory asked.

"Unless we want to run screaming. I'm sure if we act quick enough, we'll make it before they can catch us."

"Nah, we can get through this together. C'mon, or we won't get good seats for the feast."

"You're right," Draco conceded hesitantly.

Draco pushed open the compartment door and moved along the corridor, careful to keep away from the other students streaming past them. He stepped off the train smoothly and looked around himself.

"This'll be a good year, Draco."

"What makes you say that?" Draco asked, watching a group of second years scurry out of their way.

"I'm not entirely sure. I've just got a really good feeling."

"Gregory, what are those?"

Draco had paused by the pathway to the castle to look at the massive beasts attached to the carriages. They were scary things, he thought. With leathery skin stretched too tight over muscles and those vast wings – they looked like something out of a child's nightmare. A glimpse of a memory flashed through the back of his mind, but before he could answer his own question, someone was doing it for him.

"They're thestrals."

Draco didn't need to turn around to know that Potter was behind him, but he figured it would be too rude to blatantly ignore someone who had helped him just a bit earlier.

"Right," Draco said as he turned to face the trio. "From that one care of magical creatures lesson. I couldn't see them then. You've got to see someone die, right?"

Draco had turned to Gregory for confirmation, but it seemed his friend had forgotten how to speak. When no one deigned to answer him, Draco tried not to roll his eyes and instead pulled himself up into the carriage. He really shouldn't have been surprised when the trio followed him in, but he was certainly beginning to find all this attention very annoying. Draco sat in the middle of his bench until Gregory climbed in after them and only scooted over to make room for him.

An awkward, thick silence fell over the carriage. Draco was sure this was all some ploy to make them let their guard down. What other reason would Potter have to be kind to him? When had Draco ever really helped him of his own accord? He had been nothing but a bully at school. He and Potter had never been friends, so why was he doing this? Draco jumped when Gregory suddenly broke the silence.

"Why did you take the same carriage as us?" he asked them all, although Draco could see that he was looking directly at Potter.

"It was Harry's idea," Weasley answered with a shrug.

"There was room, so why not?" Potter added. He paused only for a moment before he continued. "Besides, I won't pretend that this year will be easy for either of you. We – I figured you both could use some more friends."

"I don't want your pity, Potter," Draco scoffed and turned to face the window.

"And you won't have it, Just Draco. This is only an olive branch. I don't pity you."

Draco met Potter's eyes then, taking a moment to search for the truth behind his words. He was satisfied when found sincerity there but was concerned when stubbornness emerged a close second. Draco began to feel that he would not be able to get rid of Potter, even if he wanted to.

"Besides, everything that happened last year was born of fear and blind hatred. Why would we promote that sort of behaviour if we've just won the war against it?" Granger added in that same tone which made Draco want to roll his eyes. "We want this year to be good for everyone, so we're going to quell the fear that others have of you. I know, and I am certain you do too, that people are saying things about the both of you. They'll just have some readjusting to do. So, we've decided that we’re going to lead by example and try to make things right."

Draco was sure she couldn't know how offensive she was in the things she had just said. Even without them, this new development was hard enough for Draco to process. After a long moment of thinking, Draco found that he wouldn't mind the company – so long as it meant that he wouldn't be attacked by his peers – but wondered at the same time what it would cost him in the end.

Gregory was the first one out when the carriage arrived at the castle, though he waited for Draco and held out a hand to help him down. Granger pushed forward before Draco could move a muscle and took Gregory's hand. Draco was surprised by the surge of jealousy that struck him and moved again to get up, only to be stopped by Weasley, who jumped out after her. Draco sat back against his seat with a huff, resigned to wait when Potter gave him a small smile.

"Sorry about that. You go ahead."

Draco raised an eyebrow but gave him a little nod and took Gregory's hand to help himself down. As he stared up at the castle before them, that sense of foreboding came back once more. Draco knew that this year held many trials in store for him, and he knew that they would start the moment he entered the front doors. It was just a matter of putting one foot in front of the other. Just taking small steps. Draco looked up as Gregory took his hand and gave it a quick squeeze, the gesture enough to bring a small smile back to his face.

"We should probably get in quickly if we want good seats for the feast," Granger said, unwittingly echoing Gregory's words on the train.

And so, the group began up the path toward the castle. Draco saw Granger and Potter fall behind, and, as old habits die hard, strained his ears to catch their hushed conversation.

"…I'm not killing them, Harry… better to jump… if we don't… how cruel…"

Draco stopped listening then, his face growing pale as he walked more briskly up the path. When they entered the hall, Draco stopped to take in the scene. Though there was no way the room could have shrunk, it seemed smaller somehow. That was when he saw the changes that had been made. Instead of four long rows of tables, there was now a fifth one, about half the size of any of the four, placed in the middle of the room. Draco knew immediately that this was the table for the eighth years. He had been wondering how the staff would deal with the potential overcrowding as the first years moved in and the eighth years did not leave, and now it seemed that he had his answer.

As Draco moved down the rows of the tables, he was not surprised by the number of bags being moved to fill empty seats, nor was he surprised when they immediately fell to the floor again as he and Gregory passed by. Draco moved quietly to an empty table and drew a weary breath when Potter sat across from him. Weasley took the seat next to him, and Granger the seat next to Weasley. Draco relaxed a bit when Gregory sat next to him, but he could not help but feel the eyes on his back and hear the whispers floating around them.

"Could you please try and look less constipated, Ronald?" Granger hissed at Weasley.

"Maybe when Malfoy stops looking like he'll run away if I move too fast," he whispered back.

Though Draco knew he was not meant to have heard the conversation, he could not help that it bothered him. He tapped his fingers anxiously against the wood of the table. He had never felt more out of place in his entire life. Draco was about to push himself up from the table when Potter suddenly spoke.

"Do you like being called 'Goyle'? I mean, I know I don't like being called 'Potter'. Harry works for me."

Draco was surprised at this sudden question. It was not one he had ever considered asking his old friend. In fact, he could not remember when he himself had switched from Goyle to Gregory, but Draco had been able to tell a shift in him almost immediately when he had.

"Oh, um, I haven't really thought about it. I've just sort of always been called Goyle," Gregory answered and looked perplexed. "I suppose Greg is fine. Or Goyle. I don't really care one way or the other. What about you guys?"

"Hermione, but I'll respond to Granger. And Ron is Ron as well."

"You mean he didn't like it when we called him Weasel?" Draco spoke up, trying a joke to diffuse the tension.

It seemed as though the joke did not land as Weasley's face turned scarlet and his eyebrows pulled together.

"Yeah? Well at least I never had a bout as a weasel, you little ferret," Weasley snarled back.

Draco could not do much else but blink in the wake of Weasley's tantrum. He wasn't expecting the lash back, but it was weak, and it didn't hurt. It was only surprise that made Draco's eyes fall to the table, his fingers fiddling with the cuff of his sleeve.

"Right, sorry. It was supposed to be a joke," Draco said softly.

"Yeah. Sorry," Weasley said only after Granger drove her elbow into his side.

Draco wanted to flee then more than ever as the tension seemed to dig its heels in at their table. His attention was caught by the first years filing into the Great Hall to stand by the stage. Draco twisted a bit in his seat to watch the sorting, and though he stiffened when his leg pressed against Gregory's, he tried to relax by propping his elbow onto the table and putting his chin in the palm of his hand. It was an action Draco would have never gotten away with growing up, and he relished this small act of rebellion. Draco chewed on his bottom lip as Adams, Fredrick took a seat upon the stool and was announced a Hufflepuff. He didn't realize that he was jogging his leg until Gregory glanced back at him.

"You okay?"

Draco really wished people would stop asking him if he was okay. Instead of answering, he gave a brief nod and forced his leg to still. Draco was not expecting it when Gregory found his hand under the table and gave it a squeeze, but he took comfort in the touch and did not pull away from him. When Yates, Katherine was finally sorted into Slytherin, Draco let out a small breath and sat up to listen to the Headmistress's speech. He had no such hope that she would be as brief as Dumbledore had once been, not with what he was sure she had to cover, but Draco tried not to mind as he shifted on the bench to get more comfortable.

"Good evening, students," McGonagall began with her familiar sternness, and Draco felt his heart jump as Gregory began rubbing circles against the back of his hand. "In the years following the trials, triumphs, and tragedies we have faced, our only hope is to rely upon each other. We must lay down our past wrongs, our rivalries, and don our most potent weapons – friendship and cooperation. For we cannot expect to emerge into the light of a new era if we are too busy wading through the darkness of the one that has passed."

Draco knew she was talking about him. Though there were a handful of others in his same predicament, it was hard not to feel singled out when she was staring directly at him. He was grateful when her gaze finally moved to scan the hall again.

"As for the subject of our eighth years, I know that you must all be very curious as to how we plan to conduct ourselves with their addition to our numbers. Unfortunately, our individual dormitories are far too full to house each student, so a separate dormitory has been set up for the eighth years in the central tower. However, you will still belong to the house you have been sorted into when it comes to the House Cup, Quidditch, and the earning and losing of points. I regret to say that any eighth year prefects and Head Boys and Girls will lose this status in the coming year, but I and your head of house will be appointing leadership for your year. Any other positions, such as Quidditch captainship or team status, I will leave up to the discretion of your head of house. Now, let me remind you once more that all students are to be treated fairly and without judgement, regardless of their part in history. If we are to survive, we must forge ahead together. So, please, let us begin by enjoying this feast."

This year would prove to be interesting, Draco thought. How could being forced into a dormitory with people who would have happily killed him a year ago go wrong? Maybe they would all be too afraid of him to try and be his roommates. Though, the longer he thought about it, he was already sure Potter planned to force his and Weasley's company upon them 24/7, and room with him and Gregory as well. The thought didn't make Draco angry or sick, as it may have six months ago, but it did irritate him. At this rate, he'd only ever be away from Potter in class. He stored this thought away and gently shook his hand from Gregory's in order to scoop some food on his plate. Though he did not feel hungry in the slightest, Draco forced it down.

Anxiety made the time pass quickly. It always did seem to move faster when heading towards something one dreaded. He got up when they were dismissed, certain that Gregory was close behind as he made his way toward the central tower. Draco soon found that trying to shake the trio would do him no good when he caught Hermione bustling through the younger students out of the corner of his eye. He did, however, ignore her for as long as he could before she was calling his name and he couldn't pretend he didn't notice her any longer.

"I've already convinced McGonagall to make me prefect for the eighth years, but I've no idea who they've got to be the boy. She wouldn't tell me," Granger seemed to be very frustrated by this fact. "No matter, the dorm is this way."

"Think she knows we went here for seven years as well?" Gregory murmured into Draco's ear as they lingered.

Draco gave a little laugh before he sucked his lip back between his teeth and followed Granger to the tower. Draco tried to ignore the fact that Potter was purposefully walking next to him. He had even kept Draco's pace when he deliberately sped up, and it was starting to annoy him. Draco didn't really fancy a chat with Potter, nor did he really want to look at him after the events of the summer, but his old nemesis seemed determined to insert himself into every second of Draco's life. He paused in the middle of the room after Hermione gave them the password to the door and he'd committed it to memory.

"Girls' dorms on the left, boys' on the right. Make yourselves at home."

Draco didn't have time to weigh his options before Potter was heading up the flight of steps, Weasley in tow.

"C'mon, you two are rooming with us."

Draco and Gregory shared a look, and a battle of wills took place immediately. Draco's eyes pled for another option, any other option, while Gregory's told him that it was either Potter and Weasley or a few blokes who would curse them as soon as their backs were turned. And so, pouting, Draco tromped up the stairs behind Weasley and tried not to feel miserable for himself. His annoyance only grew when he realized that Potter and Weasley had already picked their beds, but tried to reconcile it with relief that they had left two open next to each other for him and Gregory. With Weasley by the door and Potter in the middle, Draco paused only long enough to look at the window by the far bed before he made up his mind and took the one by Potter's. Gregory moved to his right to put his things down on the bed Draco did not choose. 

Draco let himself look at the room after his impulsive decision and was disappointed at its sparseness. Then he remembered – this was technically overflow. Of course, they wouldn't decorate the rooms. The staff had no idea who would be staying where. Draco frowned and let his eyes drop to the floor, suddenly feeling very homesick. He did not notice for a long moment that Potter and Weasley had left, but when he did, looked up at Gregory with weary eyes.

"This is going to be a good year, right?"

"It will," Gregory nodded enthusiastically and gave Draco a comforting smile. "It will, because we'll make it good."

Draco flopped back onto his bed, satisfied with the reassurance. He took in the plain grey drapes that covered his bed and almost saw Slytherin silver in them. The thought hurt though, so Draco put it out of his mind with a little sigh.

"Besides, like you said earlier, there's no turning back now," Draco said, turning his head to look at his friend.

"I'm sure we could find a way to escape if we ever really needed to," Gregory answered and crossed over to Draco's bed to lie on his stomach next to him.

"Oh?" Draco laughed and scooted over. "Tell me about this escape plan, just so I'm ready when the time comes."

"Well," Gregory paused, pouting his lip out as he thought through it, overwhelming Draco with the urge to kiss him. Wait, overwhelming Draco with the urge to what? "First, we steal Potter's invisibility cloak. Only as a precaution, mind you. We'd mail it back to him once we made it out."

"Oh, of course," Draco said and tried to think of anything, anything, other than making out with Gregory. "We need to be polite thieves, if thieves at all."

"The thestrals have wings. We could find them somehow, then fly away from here. Easy, see?"

"Sounds fool proof to me," Draco yawned. "But why wouldn't we just take brooms?"

"Too easy to track. Unless we aren't trying to disappear forever, that is. Then we could do that too."

"A most excellent plan. I am very impressed."

"So, I suppose I'm a genius then?" Gregory asked, waggling his eyebrows as he looked at Draco.

"You are, truly," he was interrupted by yet another yawn, "a god amongst mortal men."

Draco felt Gregory roll off his bed as his eyes began to slide shut. Then Gregory was taking off his shoes, and Draco found a blanket being pulled up to his ears. He really didn't want to sleep in his robes, but he was much too tired to get up and change. Instead, he rolled onto his side to face Gregory, who was giving him a little smile.

"Night, Draco."

Draco had opened his mouth to answer him, but before any sound could come out, he was asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big big love for my amazing Betas, Amber1015 and ShadowHeart175! Thank you for your hard work.
> 
> The characters and universe in this work are property of J.K Rowling.

Draco was back in the drawing room, a feeling of dread settling like a rock in the pit of his stomach. He sat in his chair by the fire, Father on edge in the seat next to him as Mother went to answer the door. He had had this nightmare many times before, and he knew that this time would end no differently. Draco sat frozen in his seat until the commotion behind him became unbearable. He and Father had stood at the same time, and as Draco's eyes fell on the trio being dragged into the room, his heart leapt into his throat.

Granger struggled against Greyback, and Weasley was thrashing in the grip of some man Draco did not know. Between them, although his face was swollen beyond recognition, had to be Potter. Fear gripped Draco's heart, and his palms began to sweat as Father took a closer step to the group.

"What's this?" Father asked, voice utterly bored, in that haughty manner of his.

"They say they've got Potter," Mother answered, and then turned to Draco. "Draco, come here."

Draco took as much time as he dared approaching them. Potter would not look at him, but Draco was secretly grateful for that. It made it much easier for him to avoid the guilt that would come with turning him in to the Dark Lord.

"Well, boy?" Greyback asked, impatient as ever.

Draco seemed to have lost his voice. His mouth would open, and then shut again, but no sound was coming out. He still stood quite far from them, eyes locked on Potter's face.

"Well, Draco?" Draco could hear the eagerness in Father’s voice for this confirmation though he tried to hide it. "Is it? Is it Harry Potter?"

"I can't be sure," he finally said, hating how his voice shook.

"But look at him carefully, look! Come closer!" Draco flinched as Father beckoned him closer. "Draco, if we are the ones who hand Potter over to the Dark Lord, everything will be forgiven." He was beginning to sound impatient.

"Now, we won't be forgetting who actually caught him, I hope Mr. Malfoy?" Greyback snarled.

"Of course not!" Father snapped back and approached Potter. He tilted his head to get a closer look, curling his lip back when it yielded no better results. "What did you do to him?" he asked Greyback. "How did he get into this state?"

"That wasn't us," Greyback answered.

"Looks more like a Stinging Jinx to me," said Father. "There's something there – it could be the scar, stretched tight…"

Draco began edging back toward Mother. He didn't want to go through this again. But he could no more easily change the outcome than he could have sprouted feathers and flown away.

"Draco, come here, look properly! What do you think?" Father beckoned him closer once more.

Draco stepped forward until his face was beside Father's. His stomach churning, he looked dead into Potter's eyes and saw the defiance there. He couldn't turn Potter in, not even if he wanted to. And he did not want to.

"I don't know," he finally answered before he rose to his full height and moved to stand by Mother.

But Granger and Weasley were too easily recognized, and Aunt Bella was entering the drawing room before Draco knew what was happening. Then, all too quickly Potter and Weasley were being sent away, and Bella was doing horrible things to Granger while Draco could do nothing but watch. He felt the bile rise in his throat as she screamed again and again, but then Weasley was running into the room, and Bella was yelling at them all. His wand was gone soon after and before he could wrap his head around these sudden changes, the chandelier was hurtling down from the ceiling to shatter at their feet. Dobby was standing before them, and Bella was screaming, and then they were gone.

The Dark Lord appeared shortly after and unleashed his fury upon them all. Draco was soon screaming louder than Granger, every nerve of his body on fire with his punishment. He was not able to feel anything by the time the Dark Lord finished with him. He could do nothing but twitch and whimper on the floor.

...

Draco sat up and sucked in a breath, his hands flying to cover his eyes. They were shaking tremendously when he eventually peeled them off of his face, and upon looking around he found himself back in his new dormitory. Draco forced himself to take several deep breaths, and as his roommates slept soundly around him, he quietly pushed himself out of bed and gathered his toiletries to take a shower and prepare for the coming day.

He paused by the mirror in the bathroom, lip curling in disgust as he gazed at his reflection. Even though he had slept through the night, there were bags under his eyes and worry lines on his forehead. Draco struggled out of his robes and dropped them on a bench by the shower stall, taking care to hang his bag and towel on a hook before he stepped into the shower and turned it on. Steam quickly filled the bathroom as hot water cascaded down on Draco's back, allowing his muscles to relax, releasing the tension they constantly held nowadays. He reached his hands up to wash his hair and began to feel his bad mood wash down the shower drain with the suds that fell from his scalp.

"Good morning, Draco." Gregory's voice came from a shower nearby.

Draco jumped, having not heard the bathroom door open, and almost slipped before he caught himself against the wall. The shriek forming in his throat turned into nothing but a small squeak as he composed himself once more.

"What right have you got to sneak up on a man in the shower like that? You nearly killed me," Draco teased as calmly as he could manage, rinsing his hair. "Good morning."

"Sorry," came Gregory's sheepish voice. There was a short pause before he spoke again. "Did you sleep alright?"

Draco couldn't help the small laugh that left his lips, the awkwardness of the situation bringing a blush to his cheeks.

"I slept fine," he lied easily. "But could I wait to tell you about it until we're not naked?"

"Yeah, uh, that's probably a good idea."

Draco wasn't sure which was worse, the talking or the incredibly awkward silence that followed it. Either way, he rushed the rest of his shower and dried off before pulling on fresh slacks and his button up. He left his tie undone around his shoulders and performed an easy incantation to dry his hair as he looked at himself in the mirror once more, preferring what he saw there to what he'd seen earlier. Draco glanced over when Gregory finally joined him, a small smile tugging at his lips when he saw the tie he'd done up hanging around Gregory's neck. Draco quickly did up his own with deft fingers before he turned to look at him.

"What about you, then? How'd you sleep?"

"Fine," Gregory gave the answer with a noncommittal shrug.

Draco recognized that it was incredibly likely that they were simply lying to each other but decided not to call his friend out on his dishonesty. Draco knew they both harboured demons after the year they'd had, and that if Gregory really wanted to talk about them, then he would.

"How are you feeling about your classes today?" Gregory asked.

"I'm not terribly worried about those. I've always made good marks, so I don't think catching up will be too hard. I'm more worried about the people I'm taking these classes with."

"You've got nothing to worry about, Draco."

He sounded so sure that Draco's interest was piqued immediately. What did Gregory know that he didn't?

"Why's that?"

The shrug Gregory gave him was both comforting and infuriating.

"This is going to be a good year," he said evasively.

"Yeah," Draco agreed, though he did not feel very certain. "It will. You're right."

"And we're in this together, you know that?" Gregory asked, laying a hand on Draco's shoulder. That was when it clicked.

"Is that your way of telling me you'll beat up everyone who's mean to me?" Draco asked with a little laugh.

"Absolutely. Eighth years, First years, doesn't matter. I will beat them all up for you," Gregory replied too seriously, dropping his hand and leaving his robes in the basket by the door for the elves to clean.

Draco followed his lead and rolled his eyes as he caught up to his friend.

"Even the First years? How valiant of you. I don't think anyone could top that level of chivalry."

"I try my best for you, Draco."

"Oh, this skill doesn't come naturally?" Draco looked up at Gregory before he opened the bathroom door for him. "I'm impressed. Tell me, how long did it take for you to hone it?"

"I'm not too sure...how long have we been friends again?"

"Almost eighteen years? You must be a master by now," Draco laughed, but sobered when they stopped outside of the entrance to the common room.

"Do you want to go back to the dormitory, or would you rather go on a walk?" Gregory asked, his voice softening.

"A walk sounds lovely," Draco answered, taking the option of escape gratefully.

The boys were quiet as they descended to the first floor and encountered no sign of life other than a brief glimpse of Mrs. Norris's tail as she rounded a corner.

"Where do you want to go?" Gregory asked.

"I think the clock turned seven just now. If we want to catch breakfast, we've probably got just enough time to walk down to the lake. We can say hello to the giant squid. I sort of miss him, you know."

"Sounds fun," Gregory answered and began down the path.

Draco struggled to keep up with his long-legged pace, and the two were quiet as they walked. Draco found himself taking in the nature around the castle and was quite impressed with how the staff had put everything back together. There were some new things as well. Imported, and probably illegal, plants had been spaced pleasingly across the green, and though they would have typically bothered Draco, he found them nice to look at.

"I think I missed this place more than I realized," Gregory said softly, almost as if he were reluctant to break the peace of the silence that had fallen over them.

Draco nodded, though he only partially agreed. He didn't miss Hogwarts itself, but he did miss the life he'd had there before the war started.

"I think it's the routine of it all," Gregory continued when Draco did not answer him. "I've found that I work much better when I've got a plan in place."

"What classes are you taking?" Draco asked as they approached the bank.

"I really wasn't even sure what I wanted to be when I got the letter. There were so many options on that list that they sent us, but I talked with my mum on one of her better days, and somehow, we landed on me being an Auror. So that's potions, defense against the dark arts, transfiguration, herbology, and charms. I'm also supposed to be getting my apparition license. What about you?"

"I'd thought about being an Auror for a while, but I'm tired of fighting, even if it is for the good guys. I've decided to be a healer. But it looks like we'll be in the same N.E.W.T. classes, though I'm sure they've split us up into our different profession tracks. That'll be nice for studying at least. I've also got an internship with Madame Pomfrey this year."

"Excellent, you'll be able to patch me up whenever I get hurt. When I'm on my deathbed, you'll be the first I send for."

Draco's head whipped up at the thought, his eyebrows knitting together as he stared at Gregory.

"You'd better not ever give me a reason to be, got it?" he answered. The thought of something happening to Gregory made him sick to his stomach.

"I was only joking, Draco," Gregory reassured him. "I'm always careful." No sooner had the words left his mouth than he slipped on a wet patch of grass. His hand shot out and grabbed Draco's arm, almost bringing them both down before he regained his balance. "Always careful."

"Apparently not careful enough," Draco said drily. "Even if dark wizards don't do you in, I wouldn't put it past you to break your neck on a flight of stairs."

"Stairs have always been my mortal enemy. I fell down them all the time at your manor when we were little."

Draco barked a laugh as he remembered a too small Gregory running around on short, stocky legs that had never gifted him with great coordination. However, Gregory had only fallen down the stairs of his own accord a handful of times. The others had occurred when he and Crabbe had gotten too rough.

"I seem to recall that not all of that was your fault," Draco answered, though his smile became sadder.

"Sometimes it was my fault," Gregory answered before folding himself to sit cross legged on the grass. "I miss him too," he added as Draco sat next to him. "It's very different to be here without him. Maybe every time I fall down the stairs, it's really just his ghost making sure we don't forget him."

"I'm afraid we won't be able to get back at him for it this time. It's a little hard to hex a ghost," Draco smiled a little and leaned back on his palms.

"And even worse, he can finally get back at us for all those pranks we used to pull on him. Like that time we made him think he'd slept through the whole weekend and missed his transfiguration exam."

"Or that time we convinced him that Millie was leaving him love notes in the girl's washroom? She gave him the meanest black eye when he went barrelling in!" The pair erupted in laughter. "Merlin, we were so mean to each other! They were funny though. I suppose I'll just have to turn my devious mind towards pranking you," Draco said slyly.

"Oi, if anything we should have a go at pranking Weasley. Get Potter in on it so he doesn't kill us."

"That's not a bad idea. Though I'm sure if Granger caught wind of it, she'd be up in arms about house peace."

"Maybe she'd be in on it too? They'd be harmless pranks, Draco. It's not like we're going to tie him up and toss him into the lake," Gregory shrugged.

"Well, now that you mention it…" Draco rubbed his chin, feigning deep thought before Gregory knocked his shoulder gently. "No, we shouldn't do that."

"Maybe it could be a possibility if they weren't trying so hard to be friends with us."

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind. If Weasley fires first, we'll have a plan at least."

Gregory was quiet for a moment, leaving Draco to muse as he looked out over the lake. If he squinted hard enough, Draco almost thought he could see the giant squid lifting its tentacles out of the water to wave at them.

"We seem to be making a lot of back up plans this year," Gregory finally said, his voice softer, more reserved.

"We've got to be cautious," Draco replied lightly. "Life is dangerous and unpredictable."

"Very true, my friend, very true." Gregory huffed a deep sign before he sprawled on his back in the grass. "It's so peaceful down here."

"It's almost possible to forget any of it ever happened," Draco agreed and wrapped his arms around his legs, resting his chin on his knees.

"If you put your mind to it, you can forget for a while. But then you fall asleep and every detail comes rushing back to you."

"'My mind has been both my best friend and my worst enemy'," Draco quoted, though he wasn't sure where he remembered the words from.

"Any enemy can be overcome when you have a good ally," Gregory answered and pushed himself up to wrap an arm around Draco's shoulders.

"When did you become so wise?" he asked, nudging Gregory playfully.

"Must be my old age. Wisdom floods upon me as my beauty begins to fade," Gregory laughed and nudged him back.

"I'm older than you, and I'm no wiser!" Draco nudged him again, harder that time.

"Maybe I've just aged better than you," Gregory teased.

"Maybe you're just cheesy."

"I suppose that is a possibility," Gregory answered and nudged him again.

Draco moved with it, using his momentum to come back and nudge him harder. He was surprised to find that Gregory did not move, a small "oof" leaving his lungs as Draco bounced off of him. His face began to heat up when Gregory laughed at him, and Draco reached over to push at him with his hands.

"What have you been doing all summer? Throwing cows around?"

"Not quite. I did have to carry my mum around for a bit in the beginning. So, I decided I should probably exercise to help out with that, and it was a good release, so I just kept doing it."

"Merlin, you're about as thick as a tree!" Draco answered, punching his chest softly.

"Thank you?"

"Remind me to never pick a fight with you. You'd probably kill me on accident."

"I'd never fight with you," Gregory answered, shaking his head. "But if you ever get into a fight and need someone to back you up, feel free to write me."

"Oh, believe me, you'll be the first person I ask," Draco reassured and glanced down at his wrist to check the time. "We've got about ten minutes until breakfast ends. Are you hungry?"

"Not really. I don't really eat breakfast anymore."

"Why not?" Draco asked, remembering how breakfast used to be Gregory's favourite meal.

"I probably picked up some bad habits when it came to taking care of myself over the summer. If I eat anything heavy, I start feeling sick."

"Haven't we all picked up some bad habits?" Draco reassured him, sitting quietly for a long moment. "If you had the chance to go back and change just one thing, what do you think it would be?" he asked, focusing his gaze on the ripples of the lake as the wind blew across its surface.

"I think this might be selfish, and there are lots of things I wish I could change. The whole bloody thing if I could. But I don't think there's any one thing I could have changed to stop any of it from happening," he paused, and Draco knew he was staring straight up into the sky – a habit of his when considering something deeply. "I wish I could have thought of a way to save him too. That's what I would have changed."

Draco nodded and understood exactly what he meant.

"Don't worry, there's at least one person out there who's more selfish than you," he answered quietly, pondering on his own choice.

"What about you? What would you change?"

"I wouldn't have gone home that summer," Draco answered immediately. "I would have made those same mistakes sixth year, but I wouldn't have gone home. Maybe it would have gotten me killed, maybe I could have hidden until it all had blown over. I'll never know the answer to that, but I wouldn't have had to stay in that house. That's for sure."

Draco was surprised to find tears in his eyes as Gregory began to rub his back, but he brushed them away with a nervous laugh and shrugged.

"But that's all just wishful thinking. I'm lucky to be where I am now."

"Everything happens for a reason, right?"

Draco nodded before he pushed himself up to his feet and brushed off his slacks.

"We'd better get back up to the castle before people begin to worry about what we're plotting, eh?" he asked, holding a hand out for Gregory and pulling him up.

"I don't think your reasoning is all that farfetched."

The walk back to the castle seemed much shorter to Draco, hands stuffed in his pockets. They had arrived back at its doors in record time, students bustling about the corridors to get to class on time. Draco began to feel the panic rising in his throat but forced a smile and turned towards Gregory.

"I'll see you at lunch, then?" Draco asked.

"Of course." But Gregory paused, and neither one of them made a move to walk away. "Do you want me to walk you to class?" he offered.

Draco only had to think for a moment before he was nodding.

"Alright, where to?"

"I've got potions first," Draco answered, taking a deep breath and moving towards the dungeons. They bobbed and weaved through lost First years until they found enough space on the stairs to walk comfortably. "What about you?"

"I've got charms."

Draco stopped in the middle of the staircase and hardly noticed when a couple of Hufflepuffs scooted nervously around them.

"That's all the way across the castle!" he admonished. "You'll be late."

"I've got long legs, I'll be fine," Gregory answered, grabbing Draco's hand and pulling him along. To Draco’s surprise, his hand returned the grip with an eagerness Draco didn’t know he had.

"If you’re late, just tell them you were doing charity work. Flitwick will love you for it."

"Oh, certainly," Gregory laughed. "They'll think I'm a big brute with an even bigger heart."

"I mean, with the way Potter's been treating me, you could say it's me who's the charity case at this point."

"I don't know, Draco. Maybe Potter's genuinely trying to be our friend. Is that so hard to believe?"

"Yes? Potter and I hate each other, that's the way it's always been."

"You mean to say, 'That's the way it was,' Draco. Everything's changed now. Besides, if you truly were a charity case, Potter would have gotten Weasley on board with it."

"I suppose you're right. It's not like we can get rid of him without further sullying our reputations anyway," Draco said as he let the tension leave his shoulders.

"And we really can't afford to do that."

"No, my friend, no we cannot," Draco said, stopping outside the potions room. "I'll see you later then?"

"See you," Gregory answered, giving Draco's hand a squeeze before he disappeared back around the corner.

Draco took a deep breath as he stood outside the room and tried to will himself forwards. When he finally pushed open the door, he was not surprised by the wave of grief that hit him. Though his godfather had not occupied the room for two years, it was hard not to look at the places he'd once stood without thinking of Severus. Draco cast his eyes around the room and let them stop on Blaise and Pansy, who were sitting on either side of Theodore Nott. If it weren't for his pinched face, Draco might have thought Nott was glaring at him. Finally, something normal. He began walking towards them when a voice called out to him.

"Draco!"

Merlin, someone out there really hated him. He turned to look at Potter, who was sitting at another table with a skeptical looking Longbottom and a dreamy looking Lovegood. Draco forced a smile before glancing back at his friends, feeling as though he had no real choice in this matter. Potter had saved his life, after all, and he owed Mother's freedom to the prat. The least he could do was see what the guy wanted.

"Here, come sit with us," Potter said as Draco approached and moved his bag off the table to clear some room for him.

"Yes, welcome," Lovegood added and gave him a smile. Draco couldn't look her in the eye, not when she'd been trapped in his basement for a year.

Draco cast one last look toward his friends and was perturbed by the look Pansy and Blaise gave him. He sat down anyway.

"What're you doing here?" Draco directed the question toward Potter.

"I'm taking potions. Thought that may be rather obvious, considering where we're sitting and all-"

"No, that's not what I meant. You aren't supposed to have potions until third block," Draco interrupted.

"And why would I have them then?" Was Draco mistaken, or was Potter baiting him? He was certain that was the case.

"That's when the Auror track takes it," Draco said through gritted teeth. Honestly, had Potter not even bothered to look at his schedule?

"Yes, and healers and teachers have potions first block," Potter answered with a shrug.

Draco was momentarily struck dumb. He looked between the three at the table by them before he gathered himself again.

"So, you'll be healers?"

"No, just me," Lovegood answered him.

"Neville and I are on the professor track. A lot of the staff want to retire within the next year. They say they're ready for a peaceful life," Potter said and offered Draco a small smile.

"What is it you'll teach?" Draco asked, though he had an idea for both of them.

"Defense against the dark arts," Potter answered, just as Draco had thought.

"Herbology," Longbottom added.

That one surprised Draco. From what he remembered, Longbottom had made great progress in charms after he'd gotten a wand of his own. He did not have the chance to comment before Professor Slughorn waddled into the classroom and took his place near the front.

It was a long lecture, the approach different to the one he had taken on the first class of Sixth year. Draco brushed the thought away – of course Slughorn was different. It was likely that he hadn't expected to teach three more years; the man was most likely constantly knackered. Draco found the material easy, and he did not have to do much to follow along with the concept Slughorn was teaching that morning. Glancing over at Potter's notes, Draco found with surprise that the other boy had no trouble comprehending the lesson.

Perhaps it had been the influence of his godfather, but Draco had always thought of Potter as a bit of an idiot when it came to potions. Especially after that one evening he'd accidentally barged in on Potter receiving extra lessons. Maybe Slughorn was just that much easier than Severus had been, but maybe, and Draco was starting to suspect that this was the case, things were not how he had always believed them to be. Perhaps Potter wasn't an idiot, and perhaps Potter didn't hate him, and perhaps – wait. Why had so many people turned to look at him? And why was Slughorn frowning at him like that?

"I'm sorry, Professor, did you say something?"

"Well, Mr. Malfoy, since you seem to think you know enough to not pay attention in my class, maybe you'd like to tell us all what potion galanthus nivalis is primarily used in, and what the aforementioned potion can be used for?" Slughorn asked, but didn't seem angry. There was more challenge than annoyance behind the words, almost as if he wanted Draco to prove himself.

"Yes, Professor. Galanthus nivalis is a primary ingredient in the potion Exstimulo which will strengthen one spell cast by the drinker. The spell being cast will be strengthened differently depending on the quality of the potion. Strong and potent Exstimulo will yield the best results. The potion is sky blue in colour, when brewed correctly, and it should take about two hours to complete. It has also been said that galanthus nivalis can be used in the muggle world to treat memory illnesses, though wizard research does not yield much information in that regard."

Merlin, he sounded like Granger.

"Very good, Mr. Malfoy. I should award you points for such an in-depth answer, but as you were not paying attention to begin with, I think it will be more than fair of me to leave your points as they are. Now, turn to page fifteen. There we will find the recipe for the Exstimulo potion Mr. Malfoy was telling us about."

Draco's face was hot as he bent down toward his book. He was suddenly aware that this was likely how Potter had felt each time Severus had called him out in class. Draco had laughed then, and was more than happy to watch it happen, but when the sniggers had sprung up about the room, Draco could not help but notice Potter's were not among them. He risked a glance at the boy next to him, only to find that Potter was giving him an encouraging smile. His face even redder than before, Draco buried himself in his potions book and did not look up again until Slughorn dismissed them.

Draco managed to make it through his charms class without calling any more attention to himself, though it seemed that he would be stuck with Potter, Longbottom, and Lovegood for the rest of the year. Potter had informed him on their way to lunch that the healing and teaching tracks had been so sparse that the staff had no choice but to combine them together. Where there were ten students interested in healing, there were only five who wanted to teach. The other five who'd been tossed in to their classes were the ones with no plan at all. They just needed the basics to figure out what they wanted to do after they left Hogwarts. Draco did not think any of these options fit his old friends well, but then, he never would have thought he would be going down the path he was either.

Draco sat himself at the table they had eaten the night before and Potter plopped himself down across from him. The stiff conversation they had been making died when Weasley slid into the seat next to Potter and began to moan about how his course work was too hard, and that it wasn't fair that Potter had gone off and changed tracks on him. Draco found it hard to feel bad for Weasley, his fingers tapping nervously against the table as Gregory became later and later. He showed up only moments before Granger, sitting down and opening his mouth to say something before she interjected.

"So, how is everyone faring in their classes? I saw you in the infirmary earlier, Gregory. What happened?"

Draco read the plain irritation on Gregory's face and guessed that his friend had just been about to tell him about his trip to the infirmary himself. He wondered briefly if Granger could go longer than a minute without feeling the need to open her mouth, but as the thought was mean and vaguely unfair, Draco pushed it out of his mind and instead turned his full attention to Gregory.

"It was no big deal. I got a bit splinched during apparition and had to go get patched up," he said with a little shrug.

Draco let his eyes rake over him regardless, just to be sure for himself before he began scooping food onto his plate.

"I got splinched once," Weasley said around a mouthful of bread. "It was terrifying."

"Almost as terrifying as your lack of manners," Granger retorted dryly, drawing a surprised snort from Draco.

"It really wasn't that bad. I honestly prefer it to getting sick. I hate vomiting," Gregory finished and pulled a sandwich off the platter before him.

Draco took a large bite out of his food to avoid being asked any questions. He wanted to kick Granger when she asked them anyway.

"What about you, Draco? How were your classes?"

Draco heard the unspoken question behind it, and it annoyed him.

"They were fine."

"Fine?" Harry inserted himself. "Try brilliant. Slughorn tried to pull one on him, but Draco knew the answer anyway. It was really quite impressive."

Draco wanted to roll his eyes but took another bite of his sandwich instead.

"Well, mine were just terrible, thanks for asking," Weasley practically erupted.

He took that opportunity to go into what must have been a ten-minute tirade about his morning. Granger looked more and more horrified as Weasley went on, but Draco didn't mind it, as it gave him the opportunity to quickly scarf down his lunch. Draco stood up almost too quickly once he'd finished eating and was about to snatch up his bag when Weasley begrudgingly turned to look at him.

"Harry and I were going to go play some Quidditch. Do you want to come?"

"Oh, thanks, but Gregory and I found something very interesting on our walk this morning, and we really must go check it out," Draco answered as Gregory rose to his feet.

"Have fun," Harry called after them.

Draco linked his arm with Gregory's and pulled him a bit farther down the hall before Gregory leaned down to speak in his ear.

"What's this interesting thing we've found?"

"The beauty of not having to participate in awkward conversations," Draco answered quickly and felt his shoulders relax.

"So, what are we really doing?" Gregory asked.

"Anything we want," Draco answered.

For the first time since arriving back at Hogwarts, Draco was truly beginning to believe that this could be a good year.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love my Betas, Amber1015 and ShadowHeart175! You guys are the coolest.
> 
> The characters and universe in this work are property of J.K Rowling.

Draco barely made it a week before he could no longer bear to force himself to sleep. A week of waking up in cold sweats, a week of trying to hide the worsening bags under his eyes, a week of reaching for his wand as soon as his eyes flew open. Draco was sick of feeling powerless, so that night he waited under his blankets until rhythmic snores could be heard from Gregory's bed. Weasley had been out for an hour at that point, and Potter had not yet returned to their dorm that night. Draco felt his lip curl at the idea of what Potter could be doing out so late but did not bother to dwell on the thought. Instead, he pushed himself quietly off his mattress, careful not to wake either of the room's occupants, and crept across the floor. Draco breathed more easily once the door was shut behind him, and he slipped down the stairs as silently as a wraith.

Once he'd seen the common room was empty, Draco descended the remaining steps and examined the fire crackling by the couch. Draco assumed that an elf had been by recently, as it was still going steadily, but shivered and added another log to it anyway. Utterly exhausted, he sank down onto the couch behind him and pulled a throw blanket over his lap. He was rather cosy, but it was only after he had done this that Draco realised he had forgotten to grab his book on his way out of the dorm. He had just resigned himself to go back for it when the door to the common room opened, and he froze, halfway to standing.

It was only Potter, but Draco's fight or flight instinct kicked in anyway. This was because Potter was doing something Draco didn't think he'd ever seen him do. Potter seemed to be crying. He also seemed to have not yet noticed Draco as he knocked past a lone chair and sat himself quite roughly on the couch. It was only after Draco coughed quietly that Potter turned his face toward him. Draco felt his stomach lurch when he saw Potter's face up close. Draco was horrid at this sort of thing. He never knew what to do when someone was crying. Should he leave? Pat Potter on the back and tell him it would be okay?

"I'm sorry – " Draco started.

"Sorry – " Potter accidentally cut him off, looking quite sheepish as he scrubbed at his face.

"Do you want me to go?" Draco asked, still poised to leave.

"No, please, don't go on my account," Potter said and scooted over on the couch. "No reason we can't both be here, right?"

"Right," Draco said slowly and sat back down.

He spent what felt like the next several hours staring down at his slippers, wishing more than anything that he had just gone back up to the dormitory. Draco could tell by the uncomfortable silence that fell between them that Potter was just as embarrassed by this as he was. Knowing this, however, did nothing to help Draco as he was still stuck on the couch next to Potter who had definitely been crying for reasons Draco was sure were none of his business. He had just resolved that he would not ask Potter about this when he cracked.

"Are you alright?" Draco asked, and then immediately kicked himself.

"What?"

Draco wanted to hit him.

"You came in crying," he tried again. "I was just wondering if you were alright."

"Oh, right," Potter said, and Draco thought he would leave it at that. "It seems I've just broken up with my girlfriend."

Of all the things Harry Potter could have told him, Draco had not expected it to be that.

"Oh?" Draco pulled his legs up onto the couch and hid them under the blanket. "Why's that?" he asked, mostly because it was what he thought he should do.

Potter was gnawing at his lip in such a way that Draco knew would draw blood if he didn't stop soon.

"Well, I don't know if we've really broken up, but we're also not together right now? And we won't be for a while. It was my idea, actually, so I'm not sure why I'm crying like this, and we're only supposed to be taking some time off."

Draco said nothing as Potter scrubbed at his eyes and wiped his nose.

"Sort of like a gap year? Just to see if what we have is real, y'know? Because I think I love her, I really do, but what if that was just what came out of the war? What if we only thought we felt that way because we might have died at any moment, so we figured we'd just make the best of it? I don't want to be with someone just because of that, you know?" Potter turned to Draco, and Draco nodded, though he did not follow anything Potter was saying. "It's only for a year, just to see. Then if we still feel the same way, we'll get back together. It's a good plan, right?"

Draco found himself nodding again, though he thought it was anything but. It sounded like a lousy plan to him, and he knew that if he were Ginevra Weasley, he would be too busy plotting ten thousand ways to hex Potter into the next century to be crying. Draco suddenly felt a bout of pity for Potter's near future. Weasley was likely to lose his cool when he found out, and Draco did not know whose side Granger would be inclined to take in that fight. Draco just hoped he wasn't around when it happened. Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Draco reached a hand over to awkwardly pat Potter's shoulder as a fresh wave of tears rolled down his cheeks.

"It'll be alright, you'll see," Draco said, but could hear himself how weak the reassurance sounded. "Is that where you've just come from?" he asked, though he did not really care. Draco just wanted Potter to stop crying.

"Not quite. I stopped by the kitchen to visit Winky. She's been doing better since the end of the war. I think having something to look after has helped her."

As Draco had no idea who Winky was, nor what she was meant to be looking after, he kept his mouth shut and nodded again. He retracted his hand once it seemed Potter would not start crying again and was about to push himself up from the couch when Potter turned his face toward him. He'd never noticed how green Potter's eyes were, but Draco supposed they may have only looked that way because he'd been crying.

"I'm sorry about your godfather."

If there were anything Draco could have expected to hear from Potter, it would never have been that. All at once it felt like the wind was knocked from Draco's lungs and an icy chill fell over his skin. Draco was horrified to feel tears prick his own eyes and hurried to wipe them away before they could fall. He wanted to snap at Potter, to tell him to shut up and mind his own business, but he could read no malice on Potter's face, and Draco was just so tired of being mean.

"Thank you," Draco finally said when the storm in his chest had subsided. "I know it's a few years too late, but I'm sorry about yours too. After knowing what it feels like…" Draco broke off, unsure of what he had planned to say after that. "I know that you despised him, so it means more to me coming from you, I suppose."

"I think it was a mutual despising," Potter said in what sounded suspiciously like a joking tone. "But he was a good man in the end. Someone you could depend on. He saved my life, you know. More times than I probably ever heard about."

"I know," Draco said, nodding. "He protected me when I needed it most. But, as it always seems to happen, I never really gave him a proper thank you for any of it. I think that's what's really been bothering me since he died. That, and the funeral. It may as well have only been for Mother and I. It was just us and some ugly bloke neither of us knew. He looked older than Merlin, and he didn't say anything the entire time."

Draco looked over toward Potter when he did not say anything and found, to his supreme annoyance, that he looked like he was trying not to laugh.

"And what about that seems funny to you? The fact that no one came? Because I suppose that's just extremely hilarious for someone so famous, but not all of us have-"

"Draco, please!" Potter interrupted him, looking mortified as he waved his hands for Draco to stop. "That was me! I was in disguise, because I didn't want to intrude on the ceremony for you and your mother. I figured it would be a better memory if I weren't tarnishing it for you, but when you described how I looked, I really couldn't help it. All I'd done was age myself by about twenty years. Did I really look that horrible?"

Draco was silent for a long moment before he let out a laugh that had him bending at the waist.

"Potter, you may as well marry yourself off now, because if that's what you'll look like in twenty years, I and the rest of the wizarding world will be pitying you," Draco said once he had caught his breath.

Draco found no real threat behind it when Potter stuck a hand out and pushed him, but broke down in a fit of giggles at the look on his face.

"That's really not very nice. Are you saying I'll only get married because of my devilish good looks?"

"No, of course not, but I am saying that you are certainly in your prime and that every day you continue living, you are on a steady decline," Draco quipped.

"Well, then," Potter sniffed and turned his nose into the air, looking both dignified and ridiculous all at once. Pausing, he smiled, but then his mind seemed to wander. "Aren't you hot? This fire's practically got me sweating."

"I'm perfectly fine," Draco shrugged. "I think it's actually pretty cosy. I'd meant to bring my book down with me, but I forgot it."

"And what's got you reading a book in the common room so late at night?" Potter asked, reminding Draco why he found him so annoying. "It's almost three, haven't you had enough studying for today?"

"I wasn't studying. Mind you, some of us read books just for the fun of it."

"Blimey, you sound like 'Mione. I'd never met anyone before the two of you who read just to read. You didn't answer my question though, why are you still up? We've got class tomorrow, and this isn't really like you."

"Are you always so nosy?" Draco snapped and rolled his eyes. Why did Potter have to go and spoil everything? They had been doing so well up to that point. "Forgive me, but we've been on speaking terms for less than a week. I don't think that makes you entitled to ask me questions I don't feel like answering."

"Maybe, but that was before I cried in front of you and told you my tragic tale. I sort of think that entitles me to a free pass here." 

"I didn't ask for that!" Merlin, Potter was impossible.

"You sort of did, though. I mean, you sat there and gave me those big eyes and asked me if I was alright. You may as well have slipped Veritaserum into my pumpkin juice at dinner."

"You're an idiot, Potter," Draco drew himself up to sulk off to their dorm but stopped when Potter grabbed his wrist.

"Wait, Draco, I'm sorry. Please don't leave just yet."

"Why shouldn't I?" Draco grumbled, but sat down anyway, once again. "You've both verbally and physically accosted me now. I've half a mind to report you, but I know it won't go anywhere."

Draco was joking, but only just.

"I won't push you any farther, but it truly would mean something to me if you could tell me what's troubling you," Potter answered, releasing his arm.

When Draco raised his eyes to meet Potter's, he was filled with a sudden, overwhelming urge to hit him. One of them knew how to "give the eyes", as Potter said, and it certainly wasn't Draco. He knew Potter was manipulating him, he knew Potter just wanted something over him now that Draco knew about Ginevra, and he knew that Potter couldn't possibly care about his nightmares. He knew that Potter probably thought deep down that Draco deserved them. What Draco didn't know was why he felt the need to tell Potter about them anyway.

"I get nightmares," Draco said. He was surprised to find that he did not feel any worse for the confession. "I have them nightly, and they seem very real. I had gotten good at distinguishing them from reality during the summer, but since I got my letter to return to Hogwarts, they have been harder to differentiate than usual. I am also no longer capable of waking myself up when I realize they are dreams, so I must ride them out to their end," Draco paused and lightened his tone. "That's why I'm down here tonight. I was avoiding sleep in the hopes that I may get one night of peace, but you have seen to it that that will not be happening tonight."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your peace," Harry answered, both apologetic and playful. "I'm sure you weren't anticipating dealing with my mess tonight."

"No," Draco agreed, but cracked a smile. "But it wasn't all that bad. It was actually nice to have company, even if it was you, Potter." 

"I will take that as the highest form of praise Draco Malfoy can give. I am extremely honoured." Potter gave a deep bow, which made him look more like he was feeling sick as he was still sat on the couch.

Draco gave a little laugh and once again felt a surge of annoyance toward Harry Potter, this time because it seemed he had a penchant for prying Draco’s deepest secrets out of him, working him up to frenzied anger, and making him laugh all in five minutes. It was a roller coaster ride Draco had not expected to be taken on, and if there was one thing Draco hated these days, it was the unexpected. He found himself smiling anyway and settled back onto the couch.

"What was this book you're reading anyway? One Hundred Ways to Do In the Famous Bloke Who Won't Leave You Alone Without Getting Caught?" Harry asked and nudged Draco's knee with the toe of his shoe.

"No, not tonight – that's tomorrow night." Draco rolled his eyes. "I've been reading some muggle classics. Their imaginations are much better than ours it seems. I'd ask if you'd read Frankenstein, but you outed yourself earlier as illiterate."

Draco didn't miss Potter's raised eyebrows, nor did he miss the way Potter's mouth dropped as he went on. Draco would have been lying if he said that he didn't enjoy surprising Potter for once.

"No, I haven't, but any bloke who knows anything about muggles knows about Frankenstein! He's that green guy with the scars and the bolts sticking out of his neck. My cousin Dudley wanted to be him for Halloween one year, but Aunt Petunia stuffed him into a Superman costume instead."

"Well, the book seems to be a good bit different from what muggles really make the monster out to be. For starters, did you know the monster doesn't actually have a name? It's the doctor who's called Frankenstein. He's created without one, and he's never given any sort of identity, so it's no wonder he wanted to kill Victor. If I felt abandoned like that, I'd probably be tempted to kill someone as well," Draco said lightly. "Who's this Dudley and Petunia though? I thought you had no family."

"It's complicated," Potter answered. "I don't really like talking about them all that much."

"Oh, that's rich coming from you," Draco scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Coming from the guy who pestered me into divulging private information."

"Alright, alright, but please don't look at me with pity, or act like you're surprised, or even breathe differently," Potter said and looked straight into Draco's eyes. The intensity there made him cringe. "You have to promise me."

"Fine, Potter, I promise. I had no idea you were this interesting," Draco bantered, trying to lighten the mood.

"Here goes," Potter took a short breath, and Draco was beginning to regret pressuring him into this. "I was raised by my aunt and uncle who hate magic and hated me for being thrown into their lives. I have a cousin, Dudley, who’s around the same age as me. Where they gave him everything, they gave me nothing, and I may have lived in a cupboard for a while. They were horrible to me for seventeen years of my life, but I don't have to deal with any of them anymore, so I'm really doing just fine."

The words fell out of Potter's mouth in such a rush that Draco struggled a bit to keep up. He got the main message, though. Draco had grown up receiving anything he wished for, and often more, to the point that he did not know what it was to want something. He'd had no idea that Potter had been treated that way. Draco found himself wondering how Potter had turned out to be as good as he was. Yes, good, for as much as Draco tried to hate Potter for all those years, he had always had one recurring thought; Potter was good. To be frank, Potter was far better than they all deserved.

"No, stop that, stop it right now," Potter's demand snapped Draco back to reality.

"Stop what?" he asked, annoyed.

"You're crying," Potter said, his voice a little softer. "Please don't feel bad for me or feel like you have to treat me differently. I'm still the same person you fought with for seven years, you've just happened to unlock my tragic backstory."

Draco brushed the tears away from under his eyes and wondered when he had started crying. He had to pull it together before he lost it completely.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me," he answered brusquely. "I almost forgot for a moment that we're mortal enemies and that I hate you."

Both boys found themselves laughing weepily at that, and when it subsided, Potter reached out a hand toward Draco.

"What do you say, Draco? Things are pretty crazy these days. It'll be good to have the right group of people behind us."

"I think I can tell the right sort for myself, thanks," Draco answered and let Potter dangle, shocked, for only a moment before he laughed and took his hand. "I've been waiting to get you back for that for seven years. You've no idea how bad it hurt my feelings; I was crushed!"

"So, that meant you had to terrorise me for the rest of my life?" Potter asked incredulously. "I'm starting to have some regrets about this whole thing."

"Too late, you can't take back a hand offered in friendship," Draco declared and gave a shrug. "Sorry, I don't make the rules."

Draco felt his good mood falter when Potter gave a long yawn. He pulled himself in tighter on the couch and offered his new friend a smile before he jerked his head towards the stairwell.

"Get up to bed, Potter. You look dead on your feet. I'll be fine on my own for a few hours."

"I'd argue with you, but I'm too tired to," Potter answered and pushed himself up to his feet. He was swaying as he moved to the stairs, but Draco was confident he would make it up. "Night, Draco."

"Good night, Potter."

...

Any hopes Draco had of a peaceful breakfast crumbled around him when Weasley came charging into the Great Hall, Granger in pursuit and whispering things to him. Gregory and Potter were already sitting with him at the table, and Draco had a sinking suspicion that he knew what it was that had Weasley's face so red. Judging from the way Potter tensed and took a deep breath, Draco knew he did too.

"My little sister!" Weasley bellowed when he was close enough. "How dare you mess around with her and then dump her like she meant nothing!"

Potter had chosen to sit next to Draco that morning, a fact that he could tell Gregory found just as weird as he did from the way his friend kept casting glances at Potter. However, this meant that Draco had to turn on the bench to watch what was unfolding as Potter had stood up to meet Weasley when he'd entered.

"Ron, it's not what you think."

"Not what I think?! She's only bloody gone and holed herself up in her room, she has!" Weasley continued to shout over Potter's attempts to calm him. "Says you think you should take a break, because now you might not die anymore!"

Even Draco had to cringe at the way that was phrased.

"That's not what happened-"

"And then you have the nerve to come back and sleep in my dorm? You can look me in the face after you've used her and thrown her away? What happened to us being brothers one day, huh? That mean nothing to you now?"

"Ron, you know I love you both-"

Whatever Potter wanted to say did not come out as Weasley leaned forward and gave him a mighty shove. Draco popped up from the bench to stand between them, an act that surprised everyone, including himself.

"Stop, Weasley, you're speaking out of anger. Potter didn't-"

"You stay out of it, you little ferret!" Weasley shouted at him and pushed Draco hard enough that he stumbled back into Potter. "I don't need Death Eater scum telling me how I should or shouldn't react," he snapped.

Draco could hear Granger shouting somewhere in the background, but she was drowned out by the shouts and screams of the students around them. Gregory was on his feet before Draco knew what was happening. He had seized Weasley's shirt collar in one hand and was clenching the other into a fist to strike him when Draco lunged forward and grabbed his arm. He was pulling him back with all his strength, but Gregory had always been stronger than him.

"Gregory, let him go, please, please, I'm fine, just let him go, Gregory," Draco pleaded and felt Gregory's grip on Weasley loosen.

A few more tugs and Draco had pulled him off Weasley completely. He didn't look back as he took Gregory's hand and pulled him out of the Great Hall, nor did he stop until Draco found an alcove far enough away that he couldn't hear the shouting anymore. He pulled Gregory in behind him, and it was only once everything returned to normal speed that Draco realized he was crying, and Gregory shaking. Draco could think of nothing to do but wrap his arms tightly around Gregory, so that was what he did. He buried his face in Gregory's shoulder to hide his tears and felt his friend's arms wrap just as tightly around him.

"I'm sorry," Gregory's voice was hoarse and shaking, though he had not said a word the entire time.

Draco rubbed his back and closed his eyes.

"I know you are," he answered. "I know you just wanted to help me, that's why I stopped you."

"I will never let anyone hurt you."

Draco was quiet for a long time, alternating between patting and rubbing Gregory's back until he had calmed down enough to stop shaking. Draco pulled himself away to check over him, straightening Gregory's tie before giving him a nod of approval.

"Thank you," Gregory said softly. "I don't know what came over me back there. I lost it when I saw him push you. I wanted to do horrible things to him."

"I know," Draco nodded, but gave him a little smile. "But I wouldn't have let you hurt him. I'd never let you hurt anyone who didn't deserve it. I stuck my nose where it didn't belong, anyway. I shouldn't have been surprised that I was bitten."

"Still, he –"

"I know, Gregory, but if we stand here debating what Weasley should or shouldn't have done, we'll be here until we're blue. Now, as you didn't hit anyone, I think you should be getting to class," Draco admonished. "If you put some pep in your step, you'll still make most of charms."

Gregory cast one reluctant look at Draco before he began to walk back down the corridor. Draco waited until Gregory rounded the corner before he went to find Potter and try to clean up the mess he'd made.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big love for my Betas, Amber1015 and ShadowHeart175! 
> 
> The characters and universe in this work are property of J.K Rowling.

Finding Harry Potter did not prove to be as difficult as Draco might have thought it would be. For once the buffoon wasn't off brooding in the owlery or sulking in the bathroom. Potter was exactly where Draco thought he would be – leaving the infirmary with a large blood stain on the collar of his shirt. Both boys stopped when they saw each other, and Draco's smooth passivity greeted the dead look in Potter's eyes. Draco did not have to ask what happened; it was spelled out for him in the way Potter held himself, the blood on his shirt, and the faint bruising Draco spotted on his cheek.

Draco was the first to break their fragile tableau. He took long strides to clear the distance between them until he came to stand in front of Potter. Draco found it annoying that Potter wouldn't meet his eyes, so he ducked his head down to search for Potter's vacant gaze. Locking eyes with him only made Draco's frown deeper, and though Draco was sure he knew what had taken place in the Great Hall after his flight, he asked anyway.

"What happened?" The words were soft and gentle, but the tone behind them demanded an answer.

"Ron's gone mental, that's what happened," Potter snapped at him, but the tone did not hurt Draco's feelings. After his ample practice this summer, Draco could see straight through the anger of others to the hurt beneath.

"Right, then," Draco rolled his eyes. "I suppose you just broke your own nose by accident? Maybe fell down the steps and got that bruise on your cheek too? I'm trying to be your friend here, Potter, but if you don't want that, I can just piss off."

Potter was quiet, and Draco could tell that he had made him angry. The tough love tactic wouldn't have worked with just anyone, and if Potter had not opened up to him the night before, Draco would never have dared to speak to him in such a way. However, it was only the first, and very necessary, step in getting Potter to reveal what was on his mind. When he had used this method in the past, it was in order to coax out an angry and explosive outburst, but it was now the linchpin in getting Potter to let out whatever pain he was holding in. Making Potter angry seemed to be what Draco had always been best at, and he was going to use that to his advantage.

"So, Ron hit me, so what? I deserved it. I messed things up – I got what was coming to me. It's not a big deal," Potter exploded just as predicted, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I need to change my shirt," he added curtly and jerked past Draco.

Draco followed him down the corridor, an action that he could tell Potter found severely annoying by the way he cut his eyes at Draco, but he did not care and kept up with him until the Chosen One had stopped breathing quite so heavily and began to slow down. Risking a proper look at the boy next to him, Draco could tell that he was steadily releasing the anger he'd been holding on to so tightly. Draco allowed a few more moments pass before he spoke again.

"So, what really happened, then?"

"Ron pushed you, and you stopped Greg from hitting him. Ron should probably be thankful for that, because I'm certain your friend would have knocked him flat on his back."

"I know all of that," Draco rolled his eyes and snuck another look at Potter. "I meant after I left."

"I told Ron that he had no right to say those things to you, and that you'd been cleared of your charges, so he should get over himself," Potter shrugged, but still would not meet Draco's eye.

"I'm assuming it wasn't phrased quite like that?"

"No, it wasn't," Harry said impatiently and started up the stairs to the common room. "I told him he was being a right foul git and that he should watch his mouth. Then he told me to watch mine and punched me in the face. Hagrid was between us pretty soon after that."

"So, you didn't hit him back?" Draco asked, a strange feeling blooming in his chest.

"I didn't hit him back," Potter was quiet for a moment. "But I wanted to. I wanted to hurt him worse than he hurt me. Does that make me a bad person?"

"No," Draco said immediately. "That makes you a person. It may make you a lot of other things – impulsive, brash, misguided, maybe even a bit mean – but it does not make you bad. Do you think Weasley's a bad person?"

"Of course not," Potter answered defensively.

"Well, there you go. Weasley was hurt by your actions, and wanted to make you feel just as bad, if not worse, than he did in that moment. So, he punched you in the face. While that makes him an idiot with a hot temper, it does not make him a bad person. Therefore, by your own rules, wanting to hurt Weasley for hurting you doesn't make you a bad person.” Draco paused there, a frown working at his lips. “Does that make sense?"

Potter was quiet as they topped the staircase, and Draco was surprised to find that he was feeling nervous. Had he said the wrong thing? No, Draco shook that thought off. Potter just had a lot to consider. Draco knew that he and Weasley had fought before, but the two came through it then, and Draco was sure they would do it again. Potter just needed the reminder that he and Weasley were both people, and that people could make mistakes.

"Doxy eggs," Draco said to the door when Potter did not.

It wasn't until they crossed the threshold that Potter turned to look at him. Draco was relieved to see that feeling had returned to Potter's eyes, and he released a breath he did not realize he was holding. Draco drew his eyebrows in when Potter's eyes drifted down to his chin, and he rubbed a hand across the lower half of his face.

"What? Have I got something down there?"

Potter blinked and his eyes quickly flicked back up to meet Draco's. Draco saw him swallow, and he frowned at this very strange behaviour. But then Potter was nodding and looking quite normal again as he reached a hand back to tousle his hair. The action left his loose curls messier than they had ever been before, and Draco desperately wanted him to run a comb through them.

"Yeah, you had a smudge on your chin. Looked pretty ridiculous."

"And you didn't say anything earlier?" Draco shrieked, half tempted to sock Potter himself. "I don't care what they say about you, Potter, you're as mean as they come. You may be the meanest wizard who ever walked the earth."

"Now, that may be an exaggeration," Potter rolled his eyes, and Draco laughed.

"No, I'm serious. You are the meanest person I've ever met. I mean it," Draco said, a smile firmly on his face. "Go change your shirt. You've made me miss potions, so I'm going down to the library to study for my free period. If you see Gregory, would you tell him he can find me there?"

"Yeah, sure," Potter answered, but paused, almost as if there were something he wanted to say, but wouldn't.

"What is it?" Draco asked swiftly, concern flooding back.

"Nothing, just..." Potter looked frustrated, but took a step closer to Draco and pulled him into a tight hug. "Thank you for checking on me."

Draco stood stiffly in Potter's embrace, tentatively returning it after a moment. What was happening? Since when did Potter hug him? More importantly, since when did he hug Potter back? This was all very strange, and most certainly happening too fast for Draco. He'd been friends with Gregory since he could crawl, but he had not so much as high-fived him until the war ended. The Malfoys were not a family that touched; that was what his father taught him. So why was he allowing Potter to coddle him like a child? When Potter finally let go of Draco, he turned around without saying another word and headed straight for their dormitory. Draco stood there a bit longer, recollecting his thoughts slowly.

...

The walk to the library was particularly difficult. Draco could not turn a corner without encountering someone who witnessed the events during breakfast, and their whispers clung to his clothes and trailed behind him like ducklings. Draco couldn't escape them even once he'd entered the library, so he ghosted past row after row of books, toward the back of the room. Draco stopped when he heard quiet sniffling coming from behind a large book stack, conflicted as to whether he wanted to check it out after the emotionally draining twelve hours he'd already been through. He cursed his softening heart for its ever-increasing compassion and eased his way over to the table to see who was crying.

Draco was surprised to see Granger sitting there, bent over a long piece of parchment and trying not to let the tears falling from her cheeks ruin whatever she had already written. It was strange to see her this way, and Draco was confused by the guilt that was flooding him. He didn't want to interrupt such a private moment, but he also couldn't just leave Granger on her own now that he knew she was so upset. The compassionate side of his brain winning once again, Draco gave a little sigh before stepping into the light so she could see who he was. Crying or not, Granger was still a very capable witch, and one that would hex him without a moment of hesitation if she felt threatened.

"Granger?" Draco called softly, trying not to startle her.

Her head popped up, sending her bushy hair bouncing as she swung around to look at him. Draco frowned as she hastily wiped her tears away and offered him an unconvincing smile. Why did she feel the need to be perfect even when she was crying? Draco felt a stab of pity for her. No matter the role she adopted, no matter how bad she was feeling, Granger was always perfect. Always. It was a burden Draco could remember carrying for most of his life.

"Oh, hello, Draco. Have you come to study? You're welcome to sit with me, I know you've likely missed potions. I'm sorry about that." Her facade was beginning to crack, and Draco watched in horror as more tears slipped from her eyes despite her smile. "I'm sorry about this morning. Ronald was completely out of line, he just needs some time to calm down, and things w-will go back to how they were."

Draco felt his heart twist and hated it. Why was everyone so concerned with preserving things the way they once were? He thought he had an inkling of what was truly upsetting her.

"Hermione, stop," Draco demanded near desperately, and she crumpled in on herself. "What happened, why are you crying?"

"Everything's changing," Hermione whispered and buried her head in her hands. "It's all happening so fast. Ron and Harry promised me we'd stay the same, that we were solid, but they're changing, and I'm changing, and I just can't stand not being in control of this."

Draco pulled out the chair next to her and sat slowly. Though it made his skin crawl to touch another person so willingly, he reached out and took Hermione's hands. They were wet from her tears, and Draco tried not to make a face at how weird they felt in his own. He vowed in that moment that, after this strange day, he would treat himself with something big that night. Draco had touched more people in the last three hours than he had in the last year, and the thought made him long for a shower. But for now, he was looking into Hermione's tear stained face and squeezing her hands to calm her down.

"Of course things were going to change," he told her as soothingly as he could manage. "Things will always change, and there's nothing we can do to stop it from coming. However, we can take those changes and decide if we're going to use them for good – or let them destroy us. You said Ron and Harry are changing, but they've been changing since you met them. That's not really a bad thing, is it? I mean, do you really want to be friends with the two idiots you were shouldering first year?"

Hermione gave a short laugh through her crying, and Draco released one of her hands to wipe her face with his sleeve, hardly able to bear seeing the tears glisten so pitifully on her cheeks.

"I didn't think so. I'd bet ten galleons that both of them would be dead by now if it weren't for you looking out for them. Honestly, no one would have blamed you for ditching them then. But you've got to look at the changes you're facing now and be able to find the good in them. Weasley is wearing his heart on his sleeve now. Positive: you will never have to guess at how he is feeling. Potter's become more serious. Positive: you know that he's being wiser about the battles he fights. Both of those idiots have hot tempers, and today they happened to boil over. That doesn't mean that they hate each other or that they can't get through this," Draco said, rubbing Hermione's hands as she nodded along robotically.

"But what about me?" Her voice was almost pitiful, and it hurt Draco. Spending too much time with these Gryffindors had made him softer than he liked.

"How do you think you've changed, Hermione?" he asked patiently.

"I'm crying all the time these days. I'm a nervous wreck, thinking this won't work out. I worry constantly that things won't go the way I need them to."

"You're feeling the weight of real responsibility, but you're also learning to let go," Draco responded before she could start crying again. "Letting go is the hardest thing of all to learn – and don't go repeating this to anyone – but I've got my money on you."

For the first time since he'd sat down, Hermione returned the squeeze to his hands.

"You've changed too. You know that, right?"

Draco's back stiffened and his eyes dropped from hers. Though he hadn't given it much thought, he knew she was right. His father would be incredibly disappointed if he could see him consoling another person, least of all a muggleborn, over something he would deem so ridiculous. Not only that, but Draco had been all too eager to dive headfirst into the muggle world that summer. If his letter hadn't arrived when it did, Draco didn't know how far he would have gone down that road. Would he have ended up as one of them? He was ready to give up magic for that one bloke, and it would have killed his father, slowly and so very painfully, to know it. The thought brought him a stab of guilt, and he didn't realize his hands were shaking until Hermione tightened her grip.

"Draco, it's a good change. A great change, even," she reassured him. "I like this side of you. You're kind, and you're genuine, and you're open. It's almost like – a wall's come down around the real you, and you're breathing properly for the first time. Everyone's seeing it. And it's not just because you had to. I –" She stopped herself, worrying at her lip as if she was debating something. After a deep breath, she continued.

"That day. At your manor. When you tried to save us… I could see it. You could have turned us in, but you didn't. I don't blame you for what that woman did to me, even if you blame yourself. Had you tried to help me, you would have been vastly outnumbered. I know that, and I've made my peace with it."

Draco was surprised to feel wetness on his own face, and was even more surprised to find out that he was crying. This was all getting terribly out of hand, and he quickly wiped his face on his shirt. 

"Thank you. That means a lot to me," he finally said.

"You've also been calling me Hermione."

"What?" Draco asked, blindsided by the sudden shift in conversation.

"You haven't called me Granger since you first walked over. You've been calling me Hermione." The grin that split her face made Draco groan.

"Please, don't make a big deal about this," he begged. "It's a bit hard to call you Granger when you're crying all over and spilling your guts out to me. It was a slip of the tongue, won't happen again." Despite his admonitions, a smile was beginning to pull up the corner of his mouth.

"No, I like it! It would mean a lot to me if you could keep calling me Hermione," she said, her eyes wide and pleading. Draco really could not catch a break that morning.

"Alright," he snapped and tried to look bad tempered. "I'll call you Hermione, but if you expect me to start calling Potter or Weasley by anything else, you're delusional."

"I wouldn't dream of it, Draco."

Draco was relieved to see that she seemed to be finished crying for good and took his hands back from her grasp. He was taken aback by the warmth that was spreading through his chest and was even more surprised when he found that he liked it. Was this what it was like to be friends with Hermione Granger? Did he like being friends with her? Draco found he didn't need to know the answer to that yet, and instead stooped down to pull his potions book from his bag.

"So, what class did you miss this morning to come have your cry?" Draco teased, being careful to keep his tone light.

"Ancient Runes," she groaned and buried her head in her hands, this time in frustration. "It's my most difficult class, so I really can't afford to miss any of it, but I just couldn't go, not in the state I was in."

"What about Weasley? Did he go to class?"

Hermione shook her head and dropped her eyes.

"Hagrid carried him off to Professor McGonagall's office after he had a go at Harry. He was yelling the entire way up. It was just awful."

"And he's been in there since?" Draco's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline.

"I don't know. Hagrid came back down and told me that I should probably clear out. He said Ron wouldn't be down for a while. I hope he doesn't get into too much trouble.” A hand popped up to cover her mouth before she turned to Draco with wide eyes. "I'm sorry, that was so insensitive of me after what he said to you-"

"Stop, please," Draco cut her off. "I've heard much worse, and as I told Gregory earlier, I stuck my nose where it didn't belong. I know Weasley doesn't like me, and I took the risk of being snapped at."

Draco shrugged and opened the book, before realising he had no way of knowing what potion he should review. He let his head thunk down onto the table and groaned loudly into his book.

"What's the matter with you?" Hermione asked.

"There you are!" a dreamy voice called before Draco could answer.

Lovegood seemed to be floating toward them, Longbottom beside her. They came to a stop at the table, and Lovegood handed him a scrap of parchment.

"We saw what happened at breakfast, and we figured you'd miss the lesson. So, we took some notes for you. They're a review on the Laughing Potion. Professor Slughorn said that we all need a bit of cheering up these days, and he hinted that it may be on the exam next week, so if I were you, I would study it in depth."

"Thank you," Draco said, shocked by this act of kindness. "That was very thoughtful of you."

"Oh, I nearly forgot. This came for you, just after you'd left," she said, digging in her bag before pulling out a letter.

Draco's stomach sank, and he tried to keep his hands from shaking as he reached for it. He needed only a glance at the writing on the envelope to know who it was, and he quickly slipped it into his bag with the hope that no one else had noticed his reaction. He could handle this by himself, and Draco wasn't exactly comfortable confiding in Lovegood and Longbottom anyway. While Lovegood was nice enough, it did not slip Draco's attention that Longbottom still refused to speak directly to him. Draco couldn't blame him, but that didn't mean that it had to sit right with him. Lovegood gave him another one of those dreamy smiles and a slow wave before she was off again, pulling Longbottom behind her.

"Make sure you share those notes with Harry," she called. "I only made one copy, and he needs all the help he can get."

And though Hermione and Draco laughed together over that observation, a heavy feeling settled across Draco's shoulders, not being able to shake the thought of the letter sitting in his bag, waiting to be read.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big love for my Betas, Amber1015 and ShadowHeart175!
> 
> The characters and universe in this work are property of J.K Rowling.

Although Draco had already committed the contents of the letter to memory, his fingers itched to open the envelope and read it once again. But he was forced to leave the letter stuffed deep inside his messenger bag until he knew he wouldn't be interrupted. These threats were something he had to deal with on his own, and Draco held a strong suspicion that if Potter or Gregory had any inkling of the letters he'd gotten that summer, or of this one, they would barge ahead to protect him without ever stopping to consider if it was protecting that he wanted. He knew Potter's hero complex would render him incapable of ignoring Draco's plight, and, after a lifetime of bending to Draco's whims, trying to take care of this problem would come as naturally to Gregory as breathing. Draco did not have time to play the damsel in their heroics, and he could handle an anonymous writer who hid behind a quill instead of facing him.

Besides, it wasn't as though this letter had been any more worrying than the others he'd received. It appeared Draco's pen pal didn't have much creativity when it came to threats and name calling, a characteristic that would have turned Draco off the matter if it had been a plot in a story rather than an inconvenience in his personal life, but Draco still wanted to roll his eyes at the ridiculousness of the whole thing. Honestly, to go so far as to call him a coward? Draco's lungs burned at the thought, and the itching in his fingertips grew stronger. Against his better judgement, and sneaking a glance at the door, Draco's hands darted into his bag and pulled the letter out once more. It didn't take him longer than a minute to read it, as familiar with the words as he already was.

_ Malfoy- _

_ I can't tell if it is brave or stupid of you to return to Hogwarts after my warning. I think I'll go with stupid in your case. We both know that your cowardice prevents you from any kind of bravery. I must say, it was clever of you to grab ahold of Potter as quickly as you did, but not even he will be able to shield you from me. I wonder how Goyle feels, now that he's on the outs. Maybe you'll start taking strolls around the grounds with Potter instead. I wonder if he'd try to smash those fists into Potter's face too. You should have stayed home, ferret. You will regret your choices. _

_ I'll be watching. _

Draco stuffed the letter back into his bag as soon as his eyes skimmed over the final words. He could have written it off entirely, if only it weren't for the personal details of the letter. Draco's correspondent had obviously been following him, or else had other methods of keeping tabs on him. How else could they have known about his walk with Gregory? The fight which had almost broken out in the Great Hall would have made his stalker harder to pin down, as everyone knew about that, but as far as Draco could recall, he had not seen anyone else around the castle on the morning of the walk he'd taken with Gregory.

That brought another question to his mind. His tromp with Gregory had happened over a week ago. Why had it taken so long for him to receive a letter like this? Unless his pen pal was someone outside of the castle. That would make more sense, seeing as most of the wizarding world hated him, but the writer would still need a spy who dwelt inside the castle to glean information from. Draco would have to be more vigilant in noticing who was around him, and what they saw. He wouldn't let this pathetic blackmailer scare him, but it wouldn't do to behave stupidly either.

As Draco sat stewing over the letter, he was struck with the realization that he had not written his mother since his arrival. Though she had not written to him either – Draco did not expect her to. It had always been their tradition that Draco would send her a letter from breakfast on the first morning to tell her of any changes, and she would send him back a box of sweets the next day to commemorate what they both knew would be a successful year. Mother must be so worried. How could he have forgotten? Draco began to feel terribly about her wait and resolved to write her a letter immediately following dinner that night. He didn't have the time just then, as Gregory was late and could show up at any moment.

Draco rubbed his temples as he waited by his cauldron in Professor Slughorn's classroom, thoughts running through his crowded mind more frequently than cabs on London's streets. He had agreed to help Gregory brew the laughing potion before dinner so that he could get it right during the exam, but fifteen minutes had passed since their agreed meeting time, and the inconsiderate bloke was nowhere to be found.

For some reason, whenever Gregory tried to make the potion himself, the drinker would be overcome with a sense of melancholy so strong, they'd burst into tears at the slightest inconvenience. Draco privately thought this may have something to do with the way Gregory was stirring his potion, as he'd always had a propensity to go too fast, but he couldn't be sure until he watched Gregory attempt it himself.

"Sorry I'm late."

As if his thoughts were a summoning spell, Gregory opened the door and approached the table Draco sat at. His face and shirt were sooty, and his sleeve was torn near the shoulder. Draco's eyes continued further down to find mud caked on his shoes, and the overall picture it drew clashed terribly with the image of Gregory he held in his mind. His first conclusion he could draw was that Gregory had attended a care of magical creatures lesson gone wrong, but that couldn't be the case. They had not had a class with the groundskeeper since Fifth year. As Draco could not find another viable explanation for why Gregory looked this way, he was forced to dismiss his instinctual urge to stay aloof.

"Aren't you going to tell me what kept you?” Draco asked, annoyance creeping in behind his words. “I've been waiting almost fifteen minutes for you."

Gregory sighed and sat down on the stool next to him.

"I think it's a new Weasley prank from their joke shop. This First year came running at me and threw some kind of powder in my face. Next thing I knew, I was up the groundskeeper's chimney. Bloody good thing he didn't have a fire going. He pulled me out and sent me on my way. It rained a good bit last night, so I got stuck about halfway back and had to pull my shoes out of the mud. I would've changed, but I didn't want to make you wait any longer than I had already."

There was a strange sincerity in Gregory's eyes as he spoke to him that made Draco's stomach flutter. For a moment, Draco was touched by Gregory's commitment to not keeping him waiting, but this soft feeling rapidly turned to rage as he zeroed in on what had caused his tardiness. He almost surprised himself with his desire to get back at the brat who'd done that to Gregory, and so he had to keep himself firmly planted in his seat to make sure he didn't go off and do just that.

"We've got to report that, Gregory. You can't just let it slide-"

"It's no big deal, Draco. Weasley doesn't produce anything dangerous, and I'm sure that kid was just having a bit of a laugh. It's really alright," Gregory cut him off, and the resolution on his face kept Draco from arguing with him. "Let's not keep you waiting any longer. Ready to brew a laughing potion?"

Draco had half a mind to press him further, but he knew that if they did not get started on this potion soon, they would miss dinner. After skipping the last half of breakfast and hiding in the library during lunch, dinner was something Draco was very much looking forward to. His traitorous stomach gave a loud growl, and Draco scowled as Gregory laughed at him. He made up his mind then and pulled his potions book out before flipping to the page with the correct recipe.

"Right, then, let's get going. Do you mind if I watch you do it and correct any mistakes, or would you rather I brew it with you?"

"Well, this potion can be pretty temperamental, right?" Gregory asked, and as Draco nodded, he scooted closer to him. "I think I'd like it if you brewed with me, then."

Draco lifted his head from the book and was surprised to find Gregory's face mere inches from his own. His words caught in his throat and his stomach dropped to his feet when Gregory cocked his head at him. Had his eyes always been so brown? In the low light of the potions room, they seemed to be melting over and over again. Draco found himself leaning fractionally closer to get a better look, but jumped back as the door to the classroom was flung open. He whipped his head around, fully prepared to chew out who ever had scared him, but Draco found himself quite speechless as Potter stood in the doorway, his hair messier than ever and his tie half undone.

"'Mione said you guys were working on the laughing potion," Potter said, breathless and looking as though he might have run there. "Can I watch too? You know I'm no great shake at brewing potions. Please?"

Draco wanted to refuse him. He wanted to rip Potter a new one for stopping Gregory from doing... whatever it was he was about to be doing, but with Potter looking so desperate he had no choice but to let the ponce stay. Merlin, someone out there must hate him a lot. Draco was suddenly overcome with the morbid thought that, just maybe, this was Dumbledore's final jab before he left Draco alone for good. With that wonderful thought in mind, Draco tried his best not to roll his eyes and motioned to the seat next to him.

"You can stay, but we're all brewing it together. You won't learn anything by just watching."

"Yes, Potions Master," Potter said with a cheeky grin as he crossed the room to sit next to him.

"Don't make me regret this," Draco muttered.

"What'd you say?" Potter asked as he found his perch on the stool.

"Nothing. First thing's first, you need to collect your ingredients. They're pretty common, so all of these things should be in your kits already. Potter, you get the spring water, Alihotsy leaves, and Billywig wings, and Gregory can get the Knarl quills, Puffskein, and Horseradish powder. We'll take turns doing the laughter."

Draco looked up from the book when he could hear no movement and found the two boys staring dumbly at him. He tried to extinguish his sudden flare of rage, managing instead to dim the roar down to a mere whisper of impatience.

"Well, what are you waiting for?"

Something in his tone sprung the boys into action, and they both lunged for their bags. Gregory had his supplies on the table not long after, but Potter seemed to be digging in his bag for well over five minutes before he even resurfaced with his kit. The git didn't even have the decency to look sheepish as he pulled out what they would need and laid the supplies on the table. Draco couldn't keep himself from rolling his eyes at that, pulling the potions book closer to himself.

"Let's get started, then. Potter, add the spring water to the cauldron, and chop the Alihotsy leaves. The book doesn't specify this, but I find my potion is better if my leaves are chopped vertically rather than horizontally. It releases more of the mirthful properties."

"What about if I chop them diagonally?" Potter teased, earning a murderous glare from Draco that shut him up.

Draco watched Potter chop the leaves with a keen eye before he gave a nod and let Potter add the leaves into the cauldron.

"Now, Gregory is going to stir the potion three times clockwise and once counter-clockwise. The reversal of the motion will settle your potion. Be careful to stir slowly. If you stir too fast you will damage the leaves' properties. Once you've done that, snigger at it. Not a giggle; that comes later."

Gregory nodded, his eyebrows pulled together in immense concentration, and did as Draco instructed.

"Potter, while he's doing all that, you need to grind up the Billywig wings. Make sure they're a fine powder. If you have chunks, their magic will overpower the potion, and the drinker will fall into frantic mania. Once Gregory is done sniggering, add them to the cauldron, and Gregory will repeat the stirring motion."

Draco kept a sharp eye on the two of them as they followed his instructions. He felt eyes on him and lifted his head to meet Potter's stare, a confused frown pulling at Draco’s mouth. Why wasn't he looking at the Billywig wings? They'd never be crushed properly if Potter was too busy gawking at him instead. Draco's hand shot out to cover Potter's bowl as he reached over to dump its contents into the cauldron, an action that surprised all three of them. Draco removed his hand, but sifted a finger through the mixture in Potter's grinding bowl, moving the powder to uncover a still intact wing.

"Potter, you've got to pay attention. If you added this, and someone drank it, they would be sent into a fit of mania so strong that, unless another potion was administered immediately, could cause the heart to stop. I know that a laughing potion sounds silly, or even trivial, but every potion has its range of horrible side effects. This one is no exception."

Draco kept his tone light, but firm, and found himself hit by a wave of sadness at the realization that those words were not his own. How many times had Severus told him that exact same thing when he'd let Draco help make potions growing up? He had always been so careless as a child, but Severus had had boundless patience when it came to his mistakes. Severus was always keeping him out of trouble. Draco cleared his throat as he felt it tightening up under the weight of his grief and removed his hand to let Potter try again.

"Right, I'm sorry," Potter said and turned away to rectify his mistake.

Draco turned his head toward Gregory to check on his progress until a hand covered his own and he jumped a bit.

"Is this right?" Potter asked, this time with a strange meekness that Draco hadn’t heard before. 

"Yes, that looks great," Draco answered quickly, leaving him to dump the powder into the cauldron and instead turning back to Gregory in favour of looking at Potter. He nodded to the stirring wand.

"Go on and give it another set of stirs. After you've finished that, you'll need to add exactly three Knarl quills. Potter, be prepared to heat the mixture once he's finished. Are you ready? Alright, go ahead and apply the heat, Gregory, start stirring vigorously and giggle at the potion. Potter, take the heat off."

A strange sound came out of Gregory's mouth, and Draco whipped his head around in time to see Potter's face split into a grin. Before a laugh could escape him, Draco was throwing a hand over his mouth.

"Don't! Don't laugh, you'll ruin it!"

"I'm sorry, Draco!” Gregory cried. “Was that a giggle? I was thinking too hard about the difference between a giggle and a snigger. Have I messed it up?"

"Turn the heat on, and we'll soon find out," Draco said. He looked carefully at Potter and removed his hand only once Draco was sure he would not laugh. "I'm sorry, but laughing at that stage could have ruined it completely. We've already been here an hour, and we don't have time to start from scratch."

"No, I'm sorry," Potter answered with an easy grin. "I knew the instructions; I just wasn't thinking."

"What next, Draco?" Gregory asked anxiously.

"Right, sorry, shave your Puffskein and scatter hair over the surface of the potion," Draco answered and rubbed his temples. "Then stir quickly, and Potter, apply high heat. Now laugh, both of you, loudly and uncontrollably."

Potter and Gregory glanced at each other before letting off a set of raucous fake laughter, a sound so awkward and pathetically charged that Draco could not help the fit of true laughter that overtook him. After the double shot of adrenaline that Potter had given him, it felt good to release some of his tension.

"Now add a sprinkle of horseradish powder, Gregory," Draco commanded as he stifled his laughter. "And stir the potion over heat one last time. Once he's finished that, Potter, wave your wand over the cauldron to finish the potion off, will you?"

Draco nodded to himself as Potter gave a wave of his wand, and Gregory turned off the heat. He reached for a large phial and a ladle before scooping some of the potion into it and giving it a sniff.

"Does it smell alright?" Potter asked.

"Laughing potion doesn't have a smell, or colour," Gregory answered.

"Well, I can see that much. The book doesn't have any information on sme – Draco, stop!"

Potter lunged for the phial as Draco brought it to his lips, but Draco simply stepped out of his reach. He quickly skirted around to position himself on the other side of the table once he saw Gregory eyeing him as well, glad to have something solid between the three of them.

"Don't drink that, Draco, we don't even know if I giggled or not!" Gregory begged.

Draco shook his head and rolled his eyes.

"How are you to know if you've brewed it correctly or not? I'm not going to have one of you two drink it, because if it doesn't work, I'll be too tempted to leave you here and go to dinner. I won't take much, and if you've brewed it correctly, I should only be laughing for about a minute."

Potter still looked of the mind to lunge across the table and snatch the phial from his hands, so Draco went ahead and tipped it back, letting the potion slide down his throat.

"You two are worrywarts. Honestly, I'll be-"

Draco collapsed onto the floor before he could finish his sentence, and Potter and Gregory were rushing around the table to get to him.

"Oh, Merlin, is he dead?" Gregory panicked, reaching out to flip him over just as Draco burst into uncontrollable laughter.

"You think that's funny?" Potter stormed, looking angrier than Draco had ever seen. "You're a right foul git, Draco."

"N-Not-Funny-" Draco gasped out between fits of laughter as he curled in on himself and began to roll on the floor. "Can't-can't-con-trol-it." His laughter reached a new height until he was practically screaming as he writhed on the floor. "If-lasts-much-much-longer-get-Pom-Pom- Pomfrey!"

Potter and Gregory stood over Draco, helpless to do anything but watch and wait for him to come out of it. It was only another minute before Draco stopped writhing and instead laid limp on the floor, forehead pressed against the cool ground below him. Draco was taking deep, steady breaths and counting down from ten until he regained use of his arms and legs and finally pushed himself into a sitting position. Gregory took a step closer and looked like he was about to give Draco a hand, but Potter beat him to it, and Draco took the hands offered to him gratefully.

"Thank you, Potter."

"Don't ever do that again. What the hell were you thinking?" Potter snapped.

Draco deigned not to answer and instead stepped around him, moving back to the cauldron at the table. He waved his wand over the potion and it disappeared, leaving no trace of the last two hours of their lives. Draco kept his silence and began putting the leftover supplies back where they belonged, conscious of the eyes on him. He did not look up again until the supplies were neatly back in the kits, and only at Gregory once he did.

"Are you hungry? I didn't go to lunch today, so I'm starving."

"Draco – " Potter started, but Draco interrupted him.

"If you'd like to come with me, Gregory, you're more than welcome to. I'm leaving now, though, so you should hurry if you are."

Draco was quickly pulling his things into his arms before tromping directly for the door, Gregory scrambling to gather his things and follow him in the wake Draco left behind.

"I'm  _ sorry _ , alright?" Potter called, and Draco stopped with his hand on the latch. "I know it's not my place to tell you what to do, but that was so reckless! You  _ know  _ that I'm terrible at potions, and you were already tutoring Gregory, so the likelihood of that being a safe potion to drink was so low! We could have killed you! I won't try to tell you what to do anymore, but could you  _ please  _ try not to get yourself killed either?"

Draco paused there at the door for what felt like an eternity before he finally turned his head to look at them over his shoulder. The look on his face was hard to read, but he gave a little sniff and shrugged his shoulders.

"Potter, you're welcome to come eat with us as well if you like."

...

Dinner was already bustling by the time the three entered the great hall, and Draco knew that as they passed by the rows, he was not the only reason they grew quieter. He knew he was no longer the sole focus of their whispers, nor was he the only one they were staring at. A glance at the Gryffindor table told him Ginevra was not present, and he did not need to look at their own to know Weasley wasn't going to be there either. It was, however, a surprise to find Hermione sitting at their table alone. Draco had thought she would have been massaging Weasley's fragile ego instead.

"Hello, Hermione," he greeted as he sat himself across from her.

"Hello," she answered glumly.

Gregory sank down onto the bench next to him, and Potter next to Hermione. The air was charged with a sort of fragile tension, and Draco found himself wishing that he could just eat his meal in peace. He was sick of Weasley's moping, and of Hermione's guilt, and even of Potter's angst. All Draco was asking for was one meal where he could relax and not feel the need to tiptoe around feelings or scramble to say the right thing. He missed his old friends, dysfunctional as they were, and longed for the days where he could sit between Crabbe and Gregory while Pansy simpered at him across the table and Blaise complained about the lack of good blokes at this school.

"Harry, Ron was just –"

"You know, 'Mione, I don't really want to talk about it right now," Harry snapped at her and she cringed away from him.

"Yes, but –"

"Hermione, stop. Ron and I will work it out. You don't have to –"

But Draco did not hear what Potter had to say beyond that, as he grabbed up his things and made a beeline for the door. Draco didn't slow down, not when Gregory called out after him, nor when every head in the great hall whipped around to look at him, nor even when he dropped his potions book halfway there. He didn't stop until he'd reached his dorm and thrown his bag onto the bed. Draco crawled up after it and tried to focus on breathing deeply.

"What's the matter with you?"

This couldn't be happening. Lifting his head, Draco confirmed that Weasley was, indeed, sitting on his bed by the door and looking straight at him.

"Nothing," Draco answered. "Long day."

"Right…" Weasley was quiet for a long moment, and when he opened his mouth again, he could not look Draco in the eye. "I'm sorry. About what I said to you this morning. It wasn't right, and I know we're all on the same side now, and Hermione reamed me pretty bad for it. Well, I would have apologized even if she hadn't, but –"

"It's okay, really. I know what I did during the war, and so does everyone else. I'm sorry for interfering. You were already angry, and I know I made the situation worse."

"So, then...?"

"I forgive you. I had forgiven you hours ago. Now, if you don't mind, I have to write a letter to my mum."

"Blimey, yeah, do that. I haven't written mine in ages. Should probably get around to doing that…"

Draco found it easy to tune Weasley out once he pulled his parchment onto his lap and began writing. There were too many thoughts in his head, and he knew that mother would be hard pressed to make out what he meant, but Draco thought he had a viable excuse for the jumbled mess that was his brain. Still, as his quill scratched across the parchment and laid all his burdens bare, Draco felt far better than he had since coming to school.

_ Mother, _

_ I'm sorry you haven't heard from me before now. Things have been strange this year. Everything is so different. Potter's mission seems to be to forcefully befriend me, and the strangest part is that I think I enjoy it. Gregory almost got into a fight with Weasley this morning. I think he's being targeted by the other students here. I'm not, and I'm sure it has something to do with the extra attention Potter's been giving me. They're all too scared to cross him, seeing as he knocked off the Dark Lord. I'm well, but I wish things would slow down. How are you? How is Mrs. Goyle? I'm sure Gregory would love to hear from her. _

_ I love you, Mother _

_ Draco _

Draco trudged up to the owlery before Potter and Gregory could return from the great hall. He was grateful to find Ulysses on a perch close to the entrance and tied the letter to his leg with great care. Stroking a hand down his back, Draco let the owl fly off into the crepuscule. Draco watched Ulysses go until he was nothing but a dot in the pinks and blues of the evening sky, and then still long after that.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to my Betas, Amber1015 and ShadowHeart175! 
> 
> The characters and universe in this work are property of J.K Rowling.

Bleary eyed and exhausted, Draco was struggling to keep from dropping face first into his marmalade. He hadn't gone up to bed the night before, but he had managed to get a few hours of sleep on the couch by the fire once he'd returned from the owlery. The first peaceful sleep Draco had gotten in months was interrupted when Gregory gently shook his shoulder and told him he was going down to breakfast. Draco could have killed him, but he instead trudged up the stairs to pull on a fresh set of robes and join him. He tried not to be too put out by it, as today was a free day for the eighth years, but as Draco idly stirred his tea, he could not help but wish he were still sleeping.

It didn't help that Weasley was sitting two tables down with Finnigan and Thomas, all of them speaking lowly to each other and taking turns glancing at Potter in short intervals. Draco could tell he was finding it much easier to ignore them than Potter was. Potter wasn't saying anything to acknowledge them, but Draco could see his jaw tightening and kept his own mouth shut as Potter roughly pushed food around his plate. Hermione was nowhere to be found, but Draco wasn't surprised by this. It was highly likely that she didn't want to be faced with the choice between her friend and her boyfriend, and he was certain that if he popped into the library, he would find her hidden away under a mound of books.

A screech came from above as a flock of owls swooped in with the morning mail, and Draco tried not to get his hopes up. He'd only sent that letter to mother last night; there was no way Ulysses could be back already. Despite this, a giddy smile split his face as a familiar pair of amber eyes locked onto him. Draco held out his hands, and Ulysses dropped a rather heavy package into them before coming to rest on his shoulder. Reaching out, Draco pulled a piece of bacon off the tray in the middle of the table and offered it up to his owl who scarfed it down and nipped his finger affectionately.

"Thank you, old friend. You've had a long journey, haven't you? Go rest now," Draco murmured to Ulysses, and as the bird stretched his wings and flew away, he turned his eyes down to the package in his hands.

"That from your mum?" Gregory asked around the toast in his mouth, leaning closer to see.

Nodding, Draco sat the parcel on his lap and was moving to open it when Potter stood up violently and sent his dishes clattering. The blond watched Potter snatch up his bag and stalk out of the Great Hall. Glancing down the table at Weasley's very red face, Draco thought he may know what had caused this outburst, but he did not follow Potter out this time. Draco had done enough chasing yesterday and had enough sense to know that sometimes people just needed to sort things out on their own. Instead, he hefted the package up onto the table and unwrapped it.

"There's a letter here from your mum!" Draco passed it off to Gregory. "And one from mine – oh, she sent some sweets too. And this?"

Draco dug down deeper into the parcel and came up with a black leather book. On the front was the Malfoy family crest laid in silver. He couldn't recall ever seeing this book before, and had no idea what it could contain. They had gotten rid of every dark object in their home, heirloom or not, before Draco had disappeared that summer, but some sense of foreboding about the book settled deep in the pit of his stomach. Though his fingers itched to open it, he stuck it back inside the box instead.

"What is that?" Gregory asked, and Draco saw him tuck the letter away in his robes.

"Nothing, just a book my mother thought I might like. You're welcome to any of the sweets there that you want. She always packs too many for just me."

"Thank you," Gregory answered cheerily and peered over the edge of the box to check out the treats.

"What've you got planned for the day?" Draco asked.

"I've got to study for an exam in apparition, and then I promised to help Hermione quiz herself on some runes for her exam."

"Oh, do you want any help studying?"

Draco had not made any plans himself and was not looking forward to a lonely afternoon.

"No, that's alright.” Gregory shrugged. “You deserve a day off, yeah? We can meet for lunch though, if you want."

"That sounds really great, Gregory. I'll see you later, then. Good luck with your studies," Draco said as he stood up and balanced the parcel on his hip to leave.

...

Pushing open the door to the common room, Draco was surprised at how empty it was. However, a quick glance out the window revealed most of his peers out enjoying the last of the warm days before chilly Autumn came in full force. A yawn fell from Draco's mouth as he sank low into the couch and fished the thin book back out of the parcel, and running a slender finger over the silver crest a few times, he tried to work up the courage to open it. When he finally flipped the cover open, tears sprang to Draco's eyes at the sight of photos.

He was reaching down to touch one when Potter came thundering down the stairs, startling Draco into snapping the book shut. It seemed that Potter was in a much better mood, because he stopped on his way to the door to acknowledge him.

"What's that?" he asked, jerking his head at the book on Draco's lap.

"Nothing. Just something my mother sent me."

Draco wanted to tell him to go away. That some moments deserved privacy, and that he wanted to look at the book alone.

"That's cool," Potter said as he came to sit next to him. "What's inside?"

"Why'd you storm out of the Great Hall?" Draco changed the subject, trying to tell himself he didn't actually care; that he just wanted Potter to leave him alone. Maybe making Potter uncomfortable would achieve that?

"It was stupid," Potter said, to Draco's surprise, "but Ron was really pissing me off. The way he kept looking at me and whispering – if he had something to say, he could just say it to me."

Draco, despite his intense desire to be left alone, could not help but interject in the face of such stupidity.

"Potter, you are a fool, which in itself is dangerous, but you are a fool with too much pride, which is even worse. Weasley was looking at you because he misses you, and he was whispering to those idiots, because he can't work out for himself how best to apologize."

"I understand that you think you know everything, Draco, but you don't know Ron," Potter shot back, looking quite annoyed.

"Please," Draco rolled his eyes. "When has Weasley ever been good at apologizing? Tell me one time he's properly told you he's sorry, and I'll drop it."

Draco knew it was an impossible task, but he watched Potter struggle anyway.

"See? You're blowing things out of proportion by trying to analyse everything he's doing. Just relax and let your guard down a little. Things will work themselves out."

Potter nodded, and for a moment seemed to muse on what Draco had said. Then, with hope rapidly deflating, Draco saw those stupid green eyes drop back down to look at the book in Draco's arms, and he wanted to scream.

"So, what's in the book?"

"Just some pictures my mother sent me," Draco caved. "It's stupid, I know – "

"No, it isn't. Wait here, I'll be back."

And then Potter was jumping up and bounding back up the stairs with such vigour that Draco was sure he'd fall on his face. This prediction was evidently wrong, and Potter was back in record time with a small brown book tucked under his arm. He squeezed himself onto the couch next to Draco once more and set it on his lap.

"I've got one too. Hagrid put it together for me my first year. It's got photos of my mum and dad, and some of Sirius too. I'm in a few of them. You don't have to show me yours, but you're welcome to look at mine."

Draco's curiosity was piqued. What did the Chosen One look like as a baby? Had he been ugly, or was he impossibly cute in the way only babies can be? Draco had to know immediately, and so he scooted closer to him and gestured for Potter to open the book up. Potter did just that, and a laugh spilled from Draco's mouth at the sight of the baby before him.

"You were so fat! No wonder, with all those sweets lying around."

The words were rushing out of Draco's mouth as he looked at a picture of tiny Potter reaching for a chocolate frog. There was a cat's tail waving in and out of frame, and a man and woman that Draco had never seen before were staring back at him.

"I was not! I was a perfectly normal size for a baby!"

"Come on, look at you! A perfect monster, you were!"

"All babies are a little chubby. I'm sure you were!"

"I assure you, I was not," Draco asserted with a sniff, pulling his own book into his lap.

Flipping to the first page, a photo of a new-born Draco, asleep in his mother's arms, greeted them. His hair was that same shade of white, but it was fluffy and sticking up in tufts. Mother was giving her usual demure smile, but Draco held no reservations as he cooed and grinned at the person behind the camera. He could recognize the backdrop as his parent's bedroom, and recalled then that his mother had not given birth to him in St. Mungo's. She looked so young there, no traces of stress lined on her face. It was the height of the first wizarding war, after all. Draco supposed there would have been no reason for her to feel any sort of fear with his father and family safe under the Dark Lord’s protection.

"So, see?" Draco cleared his throat to keep the tears at bay. "I was a perfectly reasonable size for a baby."

"Are you serious?" Potter gawked. "Look at those cheeks! I was not that much bigger than you."

"Whatever helps you sleep, Potter," Draco rolled his eyes and flipped to the next page.

Father's cold, proud face stared back at him. Mother looked sadder here, standing beside him. Draco almost laughed at the photo of himself on the floating horse, but the look on his own, much younger face kept all mirth from the surface. Draco could remember that day quite clearly. Father had bought the horse instead of the broom Draco had so desperately wanted, saying that Draco was too young, and that this would do until then. Draco cleared his throat before he let himself fall too far in the past but still could not tear his eyes away from his father.

"I'm sorry. About your –"

"If you apologize to me for sending my father to Azkaban, I will hex you so badly. I mean it, Potter, don't you dare," Draco choked out around the lump in his throat and flipped the page quickly. "What's done is done, and if you apologize, I will begin to think there was no meaning to it all."

"Is that Snape?" Potter asked, voice high in shock.

Severus looked down in apprehension as a toddler Draco played with his cloak. It was strange to see his godfather without his usual confidence, and a laugh was pulled from Draco as he watched his younger self grab up the edge of the cloak and bring it around to cover his face. Harry seemed to find this just as amusing and leaned in to get a closer look.

"Wild little thing, weren't you?"

"Only when Severus was watching me. He let me get into just enough trouble to have fun, but never let me cross that line into danger. He was a good godfather, and a great teacher. Everything I know about potions, I learned from him."

"I always thought he was letting you skive off and giving you the grade anyway."

"You're kidding, surely? Harry, did it elude you that I got the second highest scores on our examinations for every year but sixth? Hermione only ever surpassed me in potions by a point. Severus was actually quite hard on me about that," Draco said and turned another page. "Oh, look! My first potions set. I learned how to brew a forgetfulness potion on my own by the time I was eight."

A smile crept across his face, and Draco brushed a speck of dirt off the photo. Severus scowled at him as his finger crossed the man's face, but Draco just wanted to laugh. He hadn't seen his godfather since the funeral, and the thought of him made Draco's heart ache in his chest. A laugh broke from Harry as the large pointy hat atop young Draco's head slipped down to cover his eyes, and Draco was relieved to find a laugh of his own falling out of his mouth. Turning the next page, the chuckling turned to a roar between the boys.

"I can't believe you got away with that!" Harry cried, wiping mirthful tears from his cheeks.

A toddler Draco was clambering over a sleeping Severus. A copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard laid open across the man's chest, and it seemed that he had been trying to lull Draco into a nap. This had obviously backfired, and as he slumbered Draco played in a spilled bottle of ink. The evidence of his mischief was plain – ink covered the book, and tiny handprints decorated Severus's arms, face, and even bits of his velvet chair. Draco could remember that chair clearly. It sat in Severus's favourite corner of his small living room, and when the two weren't making lunch or brewing potions, his godfather was reading to him, or telling him stories from memory. Dobby always came for him far too soon on those days. That thought brought him to a question that had been burning in the back of his mind for months.

"Where's Dobby, Harry?" Draco asked and let his eyes flick back up to his face.

Sadness dwelt there, and Draco felt his heart growing heavier and heavier as Harry stared back at him.

"That day, at your Manor? When Bellatrix threw that knife – Dobby didn't make it. He's buried at Fleur and Bill's cottage."

"Oh –" Draco answered softly. He was fond of the little elf. "He was good, Dobby. He always listened when I complained, mostly about you, mind you, and he made really good treacle tart. I'd always thought that Father had killed him before I came home second year, so I was surprised to see him then, but now –"

"It was you?" Harry asked, eyes wide.

"What do you mean?"

"You're the one who told Dobby about me?"

"I mean, I complained a lot. You were sort of a ponce, and father was sick of hearing me talk about it."

"I'd always wondered, but I never thought it'd have been you."

"What are you on about?" Annoyance crept into Draco's tone as Harry continued to beat around the bush.

"Well, it's just that when I met Dobby he kept going on about how he'd heard so much about me and all of the great things I had done. I figured his master must have been some nut who was obsessed with me, but then when I saw him with your father I wondered –"

"I am not obsessed with you! It was just obnoxious how everything was about you first and second year. Every year, in fact! The rest of us never stood a chance if you had your nose in something."

Perhaps the words would have held bitterness if Draco had spoken them a year ago, but today they were filled with laughter and teasing. Draco turned to the last page to find a photo of him and his mother on Draco's first day of school. Her hands rested lightly on his shoulders, and though she hid it well, Draco could remember how hard she had cried before they left for the platform. Eyes lingering over the youth in her face, Draco could not help the tears that swam in his eyes.

"Your mum is beautiful," Harry said, tilting his head at the photo. "It's a little hard to believe that she looked so –" He cut himself off, as if suddenly aware that he was being offensive.

"Happy?" Draco asked dryly, and Harry nodded. "I agree. She always looked happiest when Father wasn't around, but she cried all morning the day of this photo. It was going to be my first night away from home, and she was losing me for almost an entire year."

"Your mum is an extraordinary person. I wouldn't be alive if it weren't for her, and I don't think I've ever thanked her properly," Harry added, and sounded like he meant it.

"I don't know, Harry, I think not sending her to Azkaban was thank you enough."

Harry broke into laughter and turned his head to look at Draco, who was trying not to laugh as well, as he sank down further into the couch. Their sides were pressed together as they tried to catch their breath, and Draco once more found himself in a state of self-reflection. Never in his short life would he have thought he would be laughing over his mother's trial with the man he'd sworn to hate. When Harry finally calmed down, Draco shut the book and gave him a smile.

"Thank you for pushing me to open up. It was really good of you to sit with me while I did this. I don't think it would have been as happy of a situation if I had been alone. And thank you for sharing your book with me. It takes a lot to be vulnerable like that."

"I like showing off my mum and dad, don't think too much on it," Harry teased. "Besides, you looked like you could use a friend, and I was glad to be there."

"Friends, is that what you've decided we are?" Draco mused and raised an eyebrow.

"I'd like to think so. I mean, I've cried several times and gone through a crisis in front of you, showed you pictures of me as a baby, and gotten into a fight with one of my oldest friends because of you. If that doesn't make us at least friends, then I clearly don't know the requirements for the position."

"I think you may have a point. Besides, all I ever really wanted was to be your friend. Why else do you think I was so mean to you?"

"Oh, you make it a practice to be mean to those you're trying to befriend?"

"Only when they turn down my offer so rudely! You broke my eleven year-old heart when you rejected my friendship, Harry." Although Draco was smiling, he was quite serious,

"There's no way! Why would I have said yes? You were such an unbearable git!"

"It was my nature," Draco rolled his eyes. "My father had always talked so lowly of the Weasleys that I could see no redeeming factor in any of them. Not to say I wasn't a ponce, but I was bred to be one!"

"That may be the case, but I'm glad that you're different now."

"Yes, a series of life-threatening events and surviving a war will do that to a person," Draco deadpanned, nodding lightly.

He and Harry made eye-contact for a moment before dissolving into giggles once more.

"If I had known how fun it was to be your friend, I may have stopped being such a troll years ago. I'm really glad that we've gotten to this place."

"I am too," Harry agreed and pushed himself up into a sitting position. "It's a beautiful day, do you want to go play some Quidditch? I haven't been on a broom in nearly a year, so you may actually have a chance at beating me."

Draco scoffed and shoved at Harry's shoulder as he rose from the couch. Tucking the book under his arm, Draco grinned.

"You are so on. Don't cry too much when I destroy you, alright?" he countered and ran up the stairs to change.

Four hours later, and what started off as an intensely competitive trial devolved into two boys laying on the grass and seeing how many shapes they could point out in the clouds. Draco, with a bit of cheating, was up to fifteen, and Harry only ten when they decided it was time to return to the castle. As he returned his broom to the shack, there was a niggling thought in the back of Draco's mind that he was forgetting something important. He did not have much time to ponder on it, for at that moment Harry was telling him a joke, and Draco's thoughts were chased off by a bout of laughter.

It wasn't until they reached the Great Hall that Draco remembered his promise to meet Gregory for lunch. A glance at the clock told him it was half past one, and Draco swore under his breath. He was turning toward the staircase when he saw Gregory descending, and Draco rushed over to him with an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry I'm late, I completely lost track of time. Do you want to eat?"

Gregory's eyes were looking past Draco's head at Harry, and then they finally moved back to him Draco was surprised by the strange emotion residing there. Gregory's shoulders were tense, and Draco could see his hands clenched into fists. What had happened? Was Gregory mad at him?

"That's quite alright. I've already eaten, and I wouldn't want to interrupt you while you're having so much fun," Gregory answered as he brushed past Draco.

Heart sinking, the blond turned his head to watch him go. He wanted to call after him, to apologize a million more times, but Draco's feet were glued to the floor. The look on Harry's face made it all the worse. He could see Harry trying to hide the pity there, but the attempt was unsuccessful.

"Come on, Draco. Let's grab something to eat, and we can play Wizard's Chess in the common room," Harry said, putting up a cheerful front and steering Draco into the Great Hall.

The food was tasteless in Draco's mouth as he thought about how he had disappointed Gregory. Rather than listen to the conversation Harry was trying to make with him, Draco's mind was occupied with formulating a plan to make things up to his friend. Lunch rushed by faster than it ever had before, and by the time Harry was clearing his plate, Draco was pushing himself to his feet with a strategy in his back pocket and the courage to carry it out. Unable to hear Harry calling after him, Draco breezed out of the Great Hall and down the corridor he had watched Gregory disappear through earlier. However, he would have no chance to catch up with his friend that evening. As Draco passed by a dark alcove in the wall, a strong pair of hands reached out and pulled him into the shadows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The photos featured in Draco’s album were inspired by artists frokenpest, captbexx, and pauleonotis on IG.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to my Betas, Amber1015 and ShadowHeart175! You guys rock!
> 
> The characters and universe in this work are property of J.K Rowling.

Thrashing against the hands that held him, Draco almost escaped their grip before he was pushed against the wall tucked behind the opening. Panic brought his breath in short bursts, and flashbacks to the summer of '97 overtook Draco's body, making his struggles only grow in desperation. Death Eater masks, though Draco knew they couldn't possibly be there, crowded his vision, and he could feel the phantom touch of cold white hands wrapping around his neck with a vice grip. It was as if the strange men were bursting into his bedroom and dragging him before the Dark Lord all over again. A scream worked its way up to the top of his throat, but fear kept it down, and Draco lashed out again and again. His elbow struck the stone wall behind him in his flailing, and tears swam in Draco's eyes.

" Stop it, you ponce!" a familiar voice whispered near his ear, snapping him out of his hallucinations. "If you hit me, I swear to Merlin-"

" I told you this was a bad idea, Zabini," Draco could hear Pansy Parkinson rolling her eyes as Blaise Zabini tried to hold him more firmly. "I tried to tell you that he wouldn't take well to your plan."

Draco's struggling slowed and eventually stopped altogether as a weight ballooned off his lungs, yet he turned a glare on the boy pushing him into the stone regardless. His chest was heaving as he sucked in the air locked out by adrenaline, heart beating too fast in its attempts to recover, but a quick check told Draco that he wasn't hurt outside of his bruised elbow. Though his anxiety and moment of helplessness had subsided, his fury was rushing back in full force, and Draco shoved his old friend away from him.

" What the hell were you thinking?" he hissed, his face growing hot with a cocktail of shame, fear, and anger. "What is wrong with you?"

" Draco, my love, I'm sorry, but this has all gone on for too long," Pansy said appeasingly, reaching out to stroke his shoulder. "We just had to do something about it."

Draco jerked away from her and shrank against the wall. His heart rate had still not returned to a normal pace, and he found, to his surprise, that he could not meet their eyes.

" I don't know what you mean," Draco said evasively.

" Come off it, Malfoy. It didn't slip past us that you've made yourself Potter's little shadow now," Zabini's tone made it clear that he would not coddle Draco as Pansy had. "You ditch us for the stupid Boy Who Lived, and you get to sit with his obnoxious friends, and for what? So people will leave you alone? That's a real git move of you to abandon us while you get to live in the shadow of the Saviour," he spat bitterly. "You don't know how hard things have been for me and Pansy – "

" What Blaise is trying to say is that it's awfully mean of you to act like you don't know us. You haven't spoken a word to us since we started the term. That day in potions class? You should have sat by us and showed everyone that you're still our friend too."

" Am I?" Draco shot back at her.

" Are you what, love?"

" Am I your friend?" He asked with venom, but the wounded look that crossed Pansy's face did not stand a chance against the monstrous rage that had begun stirring in the pit of his stomach. "You act like you two have been such great friends? Don't make me laugh. Where were you when I needed you? Hiding behind your mummies and daddies while he made me do terrible things. You got to come to school Seventh year and pretend like everything was fine. Like I wasn't in danger. Your choices were your own. You had a say in everything that happened to you."

" Draco, that's not fair –" Pansy started, but he did not let her get far.

" Not fair? I'll tell you what's not fair. What's not fair is that you got to stay here cursing First years and getting praised for breathing, while I was trapped in my home begging for my life. You didn't have to see him. He wasn't going to kill your mum and dad for not hexing Thomas in the corridor, or keep you prisoner. Neither of you wrote to me. Neither of you checked in on me after the war. You were more than happy to stay away from me while I was being tried."

" Oh please, Malfoy, like you can blame us," Zabini fired back. "As if you would have done any different if the wand had been in the other hand. We did what we had to, just like you. It's not our fault that our fathers aren't Death Eater trash –"

" Don't you dare talk about my father –"

" Well, Draco, he has a point," Pansy interrupted, annoyance creeping into her tone. "Because our family had no real tie to the Dark Lord, it's not like we could understand your position. However, you don't understand ours either. You don't know what it was like here."

" Oh, don't I?" Draco gave a scathing laugh as he crossed his arms. "Crabbe and Gregory kept me updated. Told me all about how you two were living it up, making the younger kids do embarrassing tricks, so you wouldn't turn them into the Carrows. I wonder if that Nigel kid from Gryffindor would make you two skinny dip with the giant squid if he had the chance? Or if he would simply have you stand up in the Great Hall and shout horrible things until you got detention with the Carrows? I wonder, would he laugh as much as you two did in the common room? Or would he wish he had never sunk so low?"

" At least we weren't out getting dodgy tattoos and gallivanting with the Dark Lord. You had a choice too," Zabini cut in. "You could have said no. It would have cost you, but you didn't have to do those horrible things. You made your choice just the same as us."

" How dare you –"

" Blaise isn't wrong, Draco," Pansy almost whispered, and Draco turned to her with a wild look of betrayal. "You did have a choice. You could have confided in us, and we would have helped you at the start of it all. You could have stopped it at the beginning, and we would have fixed it."

" Yeah, instead you chose to tell Crabbe and Goyle. The biggest idiots in Hogwarts couldn't have helped you even if you combined their brains into one body."

Draco stiffened at his words, his fists closing into tight balls as his arms fell to the side.

" Crabbe got what was coming to him, if you ask me."

" Blaise, that isn't fair," Pansy said sharply.

" What does fair matter if it's true? He was an idiot, and his stupidity orchestrated his downfall. Making friends with him was your first mistake, Draco."

" Shut up," Draco spat out around the bubble of hate rising in his oesophagus.

" Am I wrong? He was the one who cast Fiendfyre when he knew he couldn't control it. It's better for you that he's gone. I will admit that it's quite unfortunate for you to have lost the better half of that pair…"

" Blaise!" Pansy tried to cut him off once more, desperation colouring her words.

"And speaking of Goyle. You are such a bloody hypocrite, Malfoy. You think you're better than us? Take a look at your vile boyfriend. He's no better. Should be rotting in Azkaban for what he did while you were gone. Keeping tabs on us? When no one was keeping tabs on him, he was worse than the Carrows. Honestly? Goyle should have gone down with Crabbe. You would be so much better off if you had someone around who could at the very least actually contribute to a conversation. Goyle just sits there like a Quidditch post. Can't do much more than stare at you with that blank look on his face –"

It did not matter what the next words to leave Blaize Zabini's mouth might have been. He would never get the chance to say them. Not after Draco pulled his fist back and threw it into the handsome boy's nose. Draco was unnerved by the satisfaction that the resounding crunch gave him, but he did not have time to dwell on it as Zabini's hands flew up to his nose and a cry spilled from his lips.

" If I ever hear you speak another ill word about him, it'll cost your life," Draco snarled, his lips pulling back into a fierce sneer.

Shrugging past Pansy, Draco strode back into the hallway. Though his legs shook, his back was straight, and his hands were balled tightly. He could hear Pansy calling after him but had no time to turn around before he ran into something solid. Falling back a few steps, his eyes flicked up to take in Gregory's face. The shock found there reflected Draco's, and a moment passed before either of them spoke.

" I was –" Gregory began, but stopped to clear his throat. "I was coming to find you to apologize."

" Oh, it's you," Zabini's voice came from somewhere behind Draco.

" Parkinson, Zabini," Gregory answered softly, giving them a short nod.

" Why don't you just crawl back into the hole you came from? No one wants you here, you shouldn't have come back to school."

Draco's wand was out before he quite realized what he was doing, the tip pressed firmly against Zabini's chest. He could vaguely hear Pansy's frightened scream, but all Draco could process was the rage roaring in his ears and pumping through his veins. The calm, smug look on Zabini's face did nothing to quell this fury. Draco was opening his mouth to hex him when Gregory grabbed his hand and gently pulled him away.

" Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater!" Zabini called after them triumphantly as Gregory led Draco around the corner.

Draco didn't realize he was shaking until Gregory finally came to a stop outside of the library. His free hand jittered by his leg, and his knees felt like they were made of pudding as he tried to even out his breathing. Ire made him tremble, and when Gregory pulled him in for a tight hug, Draco was embarrassed by the tears that stained his cheeks. Who was he to cry over someone like Zabini? What did the prat matter in the grand scheme of things?

These thoughts, distractions that would have once cheered him up, only served to spiral him further into his sadness. Zabini had once been a good friend. Draco couldn't remember having a better partner to study with, nor a more worthy Wizard's Chess opponent. And Pansy had been with him from the start, always supporting his hairbrained schemes to torture Potter. Sure, her devotion initially stemmed from an unhealthy obsession with Draco, but once she had stopped trying so hard to get him to notice her, Draco truly began enjoying their time together. The loss of these friends, regardless of the cruel things they had said, hurt deeply.

" I'm sorry, Draco," Gregory said softly. "I heard what they said. I wasn't trying to eavesdrop, but I know this is my fault. You shouldn't have to suffer because of me."

" This is not your fault," Draco fired back, pushing himself away from the other boy's chest to look him in the eye. "You didn't make them say those things to me. You didn't cause the rift between us, that was between me and them. You're the only one who's stayed with me through all of this." A hiccup broke his stream of thought, and Draco was alarmed to find his eyes growing watery. "I would be lost without you. So, don't you dare say this is your fault."

Draco couldn't be sure where this vulnerability was coming from, and so he chose to blame it on his close contact with those emotionally volatile Gryffindors. An outburst from one of them was practically contagious these days, and Draco could remember at least three crying fits in the past week that had involved an overly emotional student decked out in scarlet. And so, by giving one last sniff and straightening his tie, along with a healthy dose of suppression, Draco was able to compose himself quite quickly.

" Understood," Gregory answered though his eyes still searched Draco carefully. "I also came to give you this. It came for you at lunch, I didn't know if it was urgent."

Draco took the envelope Gregory was handing to him and glanced down to the writing on the front. Eyes growing wider in trepidation, Draco recognized the lettering before him and could do little more than stare at it. His hands shaking once more, Draco was hit with the sudden urge to run away. To throw this letter to the ground, grab Gregory's hand, and run far away from this place. What had once been a welcoming second home was ever evolving into a nightmare that Draco couldn't seem to wake up from. His lungs finally seized, the only sign up until then that Draco had stopped breathing, and he sucked in a long breath.

" Draco, what's wrong? You're shaking again, and you've suddenly gone pale! Who's it from?" Gregory asked, craning his neck around to see the front.

Snatching it from his view, Draco shoved the envelope into his back pocket and shook his head. His fists clenched tightly to stop the shaking, he raised his head to give Gregory a terribly forced smile.

" It's nothing, just some junk mail. Nothing to worry about."

" You're being very suspicious, Draco, I'm absolutely worried. You can tell me anything, you know that?"

Draco felt a pang in his chest at that, and opened his mouth to tell him everything. He wanted to tell him about it all so badly. About the threatening letters, about the students who hexed him when his back was turned, about how confusing his friendship with Harry was, about how even more confusing his feelings for Gregory were. But he couldn't. That pesky fear was once again stopping the words from spilling out of Draco in a messy torrent, as he knew they would if he could only find some way to begin. Instead, something else was pushing its way up past all the blockades.

" Don't I already tell you everything? I promise, it's nothing. I've been getting these annoying subscription letters about Witch Weekly that are supposed to go to my mother."

" Draco-"

"You can be as surprised as you like, Gregory, but my mother is a woman like any other. Just because she's unwaveringly proper doesn't mean that she doesn't enjoy gossip," he carried on with a frivolous wave. “Is that so wrong?" 

Gregory looked as if he were wrestling with himself, his face flipping between suspicion and resignation until it finally settled on the later. Shoulders slumping in defeat, Gregory finally nodded and rubbed a hand down his face. Draco felt a twinge of guilt at how tired he looked, but gave him a convincing smile regardless.

" Alright, Draco. If you say so, I believe you. But, please," he almost begged, his eyes boring seriously into Draco's. "If you're in trouble, or you need to talk, or you need anything, come to me. I will always help you. Always."

" And I you," Draco promised.

He reached out tentatively and took Gregory's hand in his own, giving it a small squeeze. Draco's heart lifted minimally when Gregory gave it a squeeze in return, but that was enough for him. He told himself that he would confide in Gregory someday, but he was not sure when that day would come.

...

Having escaped his friends at dinner, Draco slunk back to the common room and into their dormitory. Checking the room carefully, Draco glanced around himself once more to be sure the room was empty before he pulled the letter out and crawled onto his bed. Holding it up near the window to get some light, Draco bent closer and read through the print.

_ Malfoy- _

_ I never thought seeing you squirm could bring me this much joy. It almost makes up for the suffering you've brought me. Almost. Knowing you have no idea who to watch out for, which enemy of yours this may be, or where I could be lurking is the best part. I saw you show your ickle photo album to Potter. You and Snape are cowards, one in the same. But don't worry. By the time I'm through with you, you'll be together again. Better watch your back if bad dreams keep you in the common room. I'll be there too, and I won't be as sweet and kind as Potter. _

_ I'll be watching. _

A gasp falling from his lips, Draco dropped the letter as if it had burnt him, only to realize that it had. Where he had touched the parchment, his skin had turned red and was slowly blistering. Draco quickly flipped the parchment over with the corner of his blankets and saw that the paper was coated in a thin layer of dark green paste. From the side effects, and the colour of the paste, Draco could assume that his assailant had smeared dragon poison across the back of the parchment with the assumption that Draco wouldn't look first. Clever bastard.

Draco folded the parchment back up and stuffed it inside of its envelope, shoving the whole thing under his bed. He couldn't get rid of it, not now. Burning it would cause an explosion, and leaving it lying around was too risky. With hands now covered in growing welts and blisters, Draco Malfoy rushed down the stairs and into the common room. He bowled into Harry in his haste.

" Ouch, hey, what's the rush, Draco? Where are you going?"

Draco looked up quickly, his eyes taking in the situation he'd run into. Harry seemed to have been on his way up, Weasley in tow, but Draco did not have time to be surprised by the fact that they were finally on speaking terms again. Instead, he laughed nervously and skirted around them.

" Sorry, Harry. No time to talk, see you later!"

" Oh, so it's Harry now, eh?"

Draco heard Weasley ask Harry, but did not stick around to hear his answer. His head was swimming now, the floor rolling underneath his feet. That must have been a particularly potent batch of dragon poison to be working so quickly, and as Draco reached out to the wall to guide his steps, he was unsure of whether he would be making it to the Hospital Wing. He was only able to take a few more steps before the ground was lunging upwards to meet him.

Several images passed through Draco's black out. Madam Pomfrey leaning over him, speaking in a language he thought he should understand. Strong arms dragging him across the cold stone floor. Being hoisted into a hospital bed. Madam Pomfrey's face, usually stern and unyielding, twisted with worry. Her voice in his ear, demanding to know what substance it was that had done this to him. And, finally, fighting desperately against his body's will to whisper those two words to her. 

When Draco's heavy eyes finally cracked open, it was dark, and he could not be sure where he was. He tried lifting his hands up to rub at his weak eyes, but they felt as if they had been made of lead. Picking his head up proved to be no easier, and a groan slipped from his mouth. This alerted a figure by his bed who had previously gone unnoticed by Draco, and they reached out to brush his bangs from his forehead.

" Oh, my dear, are you alright?"

That voice was too sweet to be true.

" Mother?" he murmured back, turning his eyes to look at her with some difficulty.

" Yes, my boy. It's me," she said soothingly, and a cold, damp rag descended on his forehead. "Headmistress McGonagall wrote to me as soon as she heard, and I came right away. I'm so glad you are alright."

" I'm sorry, mother. I didn't mean to make you worry. Do you know what Madam Pomfrey's treated me with? All I really needed was some Dittany on my hands. Maybe Cure for Boils if my hands were in a bad way."

"And indeed, that brings me to the question, my son. What were you doing with dragon poison? You know how dangerous that is."

" Ah, I was –" Lying to his mother had always been a supremely difficult task for Draco. "I was experimenting with a new potion. Something to cure burns. The phial was old, though, and it broke in my hands when I went to add some in. I'm sorry I wasn't more careful."

She seemed to buy it, nodding carefully as her son spun his lie. When he finished, she leaned down to place a kiss on his forehead.

" All that matters is that you will recover," she answered warmly, but stood up and brushed off her skirts. "I suppose I should get back to Margaret and Minny now. They were both quite upset for you when I left. Do as Madam Pomfrey tells you now. Please let me know how you're faring tomorrow."

With one more kiss to his forehead, she was gone. As Draco stared up at the blank ceiling above him, he was hit quite suddenly with the emotion of the day. Questions swirled endlessly in the back of his mind.

How? How could they have known about the photo album? No one had been in the common room; Draco was sure of it. The windows had all been shut, and even if they weren't, they were so high up off the ground that it would have been nearly impossible to hear anything from below. Then there was the matter of his late-night talks with Harry. No one was ever in the common room that late; how did this person know all of this? Who would do this to him? Unfortunately, the list of people willing to hurt him in this way was much longer than the list of people who wouldn’t, and Draco felt a wave of helplessness wash over him.

Tears fell from his eyes, and soft sobs left him with no shame as Draco took comfort hiding in the darkness. Disappointment, fear, rage, and paranoia all swirled and churned and shook deep within his core, and all Draco could do about it that night was cry. That would be enough for now.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to my Betas, Amber1015 and ShadowHeart175!
> 
> The characters and universe in this work are property of J.K Rowling.
> 
> Happy Halloween, and stay safe!

" Halloween's tomorrow, isn't that so exciting?!"

" It's so nice that it's on a Saturday this year. No classes!"

Draco rolled his eyes and tried to ignore the squealing fourth years at the table behind him. This was the library; had they no decency? Picking at his cuticles, he really had to hand it to Madam Pompfrey. His hands were still a mess when he'd left the Hospital Wing a week ago, but since then they had cleared up so nicely it was almost impossible to tell that anything had happened to him. Draco's eyes flicked up when Hermione snorted, and he sneered at her. This did not cow her into submission, as he'd hoped, but only made her snigger again. Draco had to try hold himself back from cracking a grin as he leaned closer to her.

" Just what is so funny, Hermione?" he hissed.

" You look like you've smelled something terrible," she whispered back. "All they're doing is being excited."

" About Halloween," Draco clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes as the young girls broke into giggling.

Draco Malfoy hated Halloween. He always had, and he was beginning to think that he always would. For all of his life, father had called dressing up preposterous, and any suggestion that his son walk the streets and beg for candy like a common muggle was greeted with cursing and slamming doors. His mother tried her best to make it a fun occasion. She would have Dobby make candied apples like the ones sold in Diagon Alley, and for many years of Draco's youth, Dobby had carved him pumpkins as well. This later tradition stopped the year Draco put his foot through the face in a fit of petulant rage. He was seven years old.

Halloween at Hogwarts hadn't been any better. They still had classes, which Draco didn't mind so much, but there was too much buzz over a holiday that they did so little to celebrate. In Draco's eyes, the Halloween Feast was no different from their typical dinner. The food was endless and tasted just the same as it did any day, and the cheesy jack-o-lanterns made him scoff. Draco could not find the appeal in celebrating a day so clearly mundane. When did attempting to ward off evil ever help him anyway?

" What, you hate Halloween?" Hermione cocked a disbelieving eyebrow at him.

" What's there to get excited about? It's just another day. It's not like they give us anything real to look forward to."

"What with my parents being dentists, I never saw the appeal either," she said with a shrug.

" There's also the small matter of Halloween being a cursed day here. First year, a mountain troll broke in and nearly killed you and your stupid friends. Second year, Ginevra Weasley gets possessed and opens the Chamber of Secrets. Third year, Sirius Black breaks into the castle. Fourth year, Harry's name pops out of the Goblet of Fire. I'd say that bad things happening on Halloween for four out of the six years we've been here doesn't bode well for the present."

" But what's the harm in letting people be excited about things?"

Draco rolled his eyes as she gave him a patronizing smile, opening his mouth to retort when the chair beside him was pulled out from the table.

" Draco? Letting someone be excited about something? Unheard of! Absolutely impossible 'Mione."

Harry was grinning as he reached over and nudged him.

" Very funny. I cannot handle your incredible sense of humour for another moment, or I'm sure I'll explode," Draco answered dryly. "Can you blame me for not drooling over the idea of Halloween? On the worst days, it's cursed, and on the best, it's positively mundane."

" Ah, then the news I have may be enough to turn your head," Harry said with a mischievous smile. "We're switching things up this time. A little Halloween party is in the works, and it's for Eighth years only."

" You've got my attention," Draco grudgingly conceded and turned in his seat to face Harry.

" Harry, we can't do anything too far out there–"

" Come off it, 'Mione. It's on a Saturday. You might wake up just a few hours late Sunday morning and miss out on some of your study time, but it's for post-war unity," Harry's teasing tone should not have helped him, but when Hermione's serious countenance melted away and she nodded her agreement, Draco could not help but think semi-seriously that Harry was a master manipulator.

"It'll just be a small party, anyway," Harry added. "It won't get crazy, I promise. We'll have a few drinks for everyone. There'll be music, party games, you name it. Hannah Abbott's smuggled her mum's enchanted phonograph along with some Weird Sisters albums. It'll be really great. I've also found us an excellent location. That's where I've come from, actually. I cleared it with McGonagall to let us use the Room of Requirement just now."

As if of their own volition, every muscle in Draco's body contracted into one tight unit. The blood in his veins had to be turning to ice, because there was no other explanation for how cold he felt as dread rushed through him, locking his limbs in place. He didn't realize he was hyperventilating until Harry's hands dropped to his shoulders and Draco's wide, glassy eyes found his.

"Merlin...Draco...wasn't thinking...deep breaths-you've....slow....down." Harry's voice reached him from afar, but Draco could barely understand the words over the roar of flames.

Crabbe was falling before his eyes, down and down just beyond Draco's desperate reach. Draco could see his friend's face contorting into an unbearably gruesome mask of fear, panic and despair flaring in his eyes, and as Crabbe's long scream rang loudly in his ears over the crackle of the fire, he could smell the charred wood. Draco just barely made out another noise over the looping scream, someone else talking quickly, panic in their voice, before hands were touching him; touching his face; cupping his cheeks.

" Draco?"

Draco knew that voice, and his eyes opened to find Gregory kneeling before him. He shut them again, tightly this time, and desperately tried to push the vision from his mind – it wouldn't leave, just kept coming back – falling and falling and falling.

" I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking; we can absolutely find somewhere else for the party."

Was that Harry?

" We should take him to see Madam Pomfrey. She'll give him a calming draught, and he'll come out of this."

That was definitely Hermione. The command in her voice was unmistakable. It seemed to be this calm assertion that finally managed to pull Draco from his memories.

Draco blinked once, twice, three times, and found himself in the center of a tight triangle. His shoulders tensed until he identified Harry was on his right, Hermione on his left, and Gregroy still kneeled before him with his hands on Draco's face. His cheeks felt wet, and Draco realized this meant he must have been crying. Suddenly feeling very silly for his outburst, Draco laid his still-shaking hands over Gregory's and pulled them down from his face. Taking a few deep breaths, he kept ahold of Gregory’s hands and turned his head toward Harry, gripping them as though they were a life line tossed to him in the middle of a stormy sea. Though he suppressed a shudder at the thought of going back to that terrible place, he didn’t want to spoil Harry’s party.

"No, I'm sorry, you absolutely should not change the location of your party," he said immediately and felt Gregory squeeze his hands. Taking that as a sign of support, he added, "We'll both be there. It'll be good to have a chance to relax after how rocky this term's been already." 

Though he was not even able to sound convincing to himself, Draco still hated the way the three were still looking at him as if he may fall apart again at the slightest thing.

" Are you sure? I can definitely have it somewhere else, I don't want to-"

" Potter, if you move that party, I swear on Merlin's shaggy beard that I will hex you into next week," Draco threatened. "I had an emotional reaction, that's all. I think that it's fair given the situation, but that room means horrible things to plenty of other people as well, and I think that throwing this party will be a way of reclaiming it as our own. A way to have better memories when we look back on our time here."

Hermione was the first to nod slowly. What he had said made sense, and Draco knew that they would all cave-in to his demand eventually. It pleased him despite this knowledge when Gregory and Harry eventually murmured their consent as well. Draco released Gregory's hands to wipe the tears from his cheeks and purposefully turned toward the table to look at his book.

" Now, if you lot don't mind, this is a library," he told the table. "I fully intend on studying, and if that isn't your plan as well, you'll have to see yourselves out."

The rest of the day moved too quickly for Draco to keep up with. His classes had been a welcome distraction, if not for Harry's constant staring and asking if he was sure he was alright. Draco had to tell him when they reached the Herbology greenhouse that if he asked one more time, Draco would be forced to bury him alive. The questioning stopped after that, but the concerned staring did not. Draco didn't know which he preferred, taking his earliest opportunity to disappear back into the library.

Conversation at dinner had been too enthusiastic to be natural, and it was blatantly obvious to Draco that his friends were still discussing what had happened in the library when Draco wasn't around. He wanted to roll his eyes and tell them to come off it, but Draco was grudgingly touched by their caution anyway. Weasley couldn't sense the tension in the conversation, but that came as no surprise to the blond. Though he and Harry had made up, Weasley's new policy when it came to Draco seemed to be complete avoidance. Weasley didn't speak to him unless it was necessary, and Draco couldn't really find a complaint with this arrangement.

The only destination Draco had in mind after dinner was the safety of his dorm. Regardless of what he had said, he was exhausted from his earlier reaction, and when he finally crawled between his sheets that night, he was gifted with a dreamless sleep.

...

When Draco opened his eyes again, the sun was already high in the sky. He sat up too quickly, the blood rushing to his head, and swung his legs over the side of his bed in search of his slippers. How had he slept in so late? Why hadn't Gregory woken him up? Merlin, he was starving. Draco found himself hoping he hadn't slept through breakfast, but one glance at his pocket watch told him that it was well past noon. With his luck, he'd managed to miss lunch as well. Draco looked up as the door was pushed open, a scowl darkening his features.

" You're up," came Gregory's surprised voice. "Hungry?"

Draco suddenly found he couldn't be annoyed with him as he saw the plate Gregory was balancing in one hand and scooted back on his bed to make room for him.

" Starving. Why'd you let me sleep so late? Harry has the most enormous list of things to get done for the party, and we said we'd help him," Draco chided.

Gregory shrugged and sat down by him before he passed the plate off into Draco's eager hands.

" We all decided it would be a special treat to let you catch up on your sleep. Deny it all you want, but I know for a fact that you've not been in your bed for the past few nights," Gregory returned sternly.

This made Draco roll his eyes, and he picked up a piece of toast and stuck it into his mouth in favour of answering him. Letting him sleep in was a nice gesture, and Draco did feel much better than he had the night before, so he felt any further complaining could not be justified. Gregory seemed content to sit by him as Draco ate his lunch, but Draco instead set the plate down on the bed and made a move to push himself to his feet.

" How much did you all get done? Let me put my big boy pants on, and I'll come help," Draco said and began to pull the covers back.

" You're not wearing pants?" Gregory's voice was a scandalized whisper as yanked the blankets back over Draco's lap. Draco only laughed at him.

" It's only a saying, Gregory. I sleep in bed clothes, you know that," Draco rolled his eyes playfully, but sank back against the pillows and reached towards the plate of food to pick up a bunch of grapes. "Tell me though, how much is left to do? I want to help with this party."

Though he truly did want to help his friends get ready, that was really only half of it. If Draco were honest, he also wanted to be in that room before the rest of the eighth years arrived to be sure he could keep his head, and he knew that Gregory could read right through his words to the meaning behind him. The thought of stepping foot back in that place had his stomach churning, and Draco found himself rolling the grapes between his fingers in favour of eating them. His cheeks burned the longer it took Gregory to answer him, and shame kept his eyes lowered. Gregory must think he was a coward for not being able to return to that place, that was what kept his silence. He thought Draco was a coward and- 

" It looks different," Gregory's voice was soft, reassuring. "It looks almost like the Slytherin common room, now that I think about it. The colours are different, of course, but the layout is the same. Same chairs by the fire, same couch in the corner. The floor's pretty much covered with pillows, so that'll be, uh, comfortable? I think it'll be a good time."

Gregory looked as though he was poised to keep rambling, so Draco offered him a quick smile and gave his hand a pat.

" I'm sure it'll be great, Gregory. I trust your judgement," Draco said before neatly stuffing the rest of the food in his mouth and scooting off the side of his bed. "Is there a dress code for this thing?"

He asked the question over his shoulder as he sank to his knees in front of his trunk. Draco began sifting through his clothes for something suitable for a party before abruptly realising what he typically wore to Malfoy soirées would likely not be what was expected for the party tonight. Maybe just some dress pants and a pressed shirt then?

" Just wear something you're comfortable in. I don't think anyone's dressing up or doing costumes. We're just going to relax with our friends and have fun."

" That's where you're wrong, Greg," Harry's breathless voice floated through the open door as he came bounding up the last of the stairs. "Loads of the girls have been coming to me today telling me that they want everyone to wear costumes. They don't have time to order any, so they're going to transfigure some of their things to make a couple of pieces."

Draco did not try to hide the snort he gave.

" I won't be caught dead in a costume, Harry. As I'm sure you remember, I hold a deep-seated hatred for all things Halloween. You're lucky I'm even coming to your party," he snarked, head still buried in his trunk.

The strange thing about famous last words is that no one ever knows when they've uttered their own until it's too late. If Draco had known then, perhaps he wouldn't be standing in the middle of the Room of Requirement in a pair of Harry's tight leather pants and a black shirt that clung to his chest, feeling out of place despite the obnoxious costumes others around him were sporting. Draco was horribly self-conscious in the skin-tight clothes despite the too-big black leather jacket Harry had wrestled him into, and he fully planned to rip the dragon tail from his pants and the horns from his head once he managed to weasel his way out from under Harry's arm.

The limb had been draped over his shoulder since they'd walked in, and Draco had not spotted Gregory in the hour that they'd been there. Instead, he had talked to people who, surprisingly, were not glaring at him, and were indeed quite normal. Tracey Davis was conversing with Hannah Abbott, and the two were laughing as if they'd been friends their whole lives. A Ravenclaw girl was talking to Harry about Quidditch, and Draco found himself pleasantly surprised when she turned to him and asked how his Nimbus 2001 was flying these days. Draco told her it still rode well, though it didn't get much use, and as she walked away, a giddy smile came to his lips.

Perhaps it was the two butterbeers he'd nursed, or maybe it was the calming draught he'd downed before he walked in, but Draco was feeling more like himself than ever by the time Pavarti Patil was standing on a table and demanding that they all play a game Draco had never heard of before. Draco's protests didn't seem to matter to Harry, who slipped his arm from around Draco's shoulder to grab his hand instead. Harry dragged him over to the circle that was quickly forming and sat him down on a large pillow, laughing all along the way at Draco's whining. His pouting soon became a large smile once he'd looked up to find Gregory on his other side.

" Where have you been?" Draco had to lean over, their arms pressed together, and speak up over the raucous screams of the people around him to make himself heard. "I was looking for you, but I never spotted you."

" I've been right here! Do you know what's happening?" Gregory asked just as loudly, confusion written across his face.

" A game, I think!" Draco started to explain. "They're calling it never have I ever–"

" Okay!" Pavarti was standing in the middle of the circle, her cat ears crooked on her head, her shoes missing from her stockinged feet, and her drawn on whiskers smudged by sweat. A glance at Ernie Macmillan told Draco that it may have been more than sweat that rubbed off those marks, but he had no time to explore this theory before she was shouting again.

"For those of you who don't know the rules, it's simple! We go around the circle with the talking bottle, and then we say something we've never done before! If you've done something someone hasn't, you have to drink! First one to drink ten times loses!"

As she spoke, another girl Draco didn't recognize was conjuring tiny glasses and handing them out in groups of ten to each person. Hannah Abbot was helping her by spacing out large bottles of Firewhisky around the circle. As there were only about twenty people in their ring, and they had five bottles, she put them at every fourth person. This meant it landed right in between Harry and Draco, the latter eyeing it with caution, as if it were a snake that could strike him at any moment. Draco had heard many things about Firewhisky, and he knew from the expensive wines he had shared with his parents that he was a bit of a lightweight. The last thing Draco needed tonight was to lose his senses, but it was too late to back out of the game now.

The "talking bottle" started somewhere across the circle from Draco with Macmillan, who proudly decreed that he had never eaten a badly flavoured Bertie Bott's bean. Nearly half the circle, Draco included, took a drink and flipped their first glass upside down. That wasn't so bad. The firewhisky burned on its way down, as Draco had expected, but it didn't feel as horrible as he might have thought it would. The Ravenclaw girl to the left of Macmillan claimed to have never kissed a person she didn't love, to which Draco and two others were the only people to drink.

By the time the "talking bottle" got around to Weasley and Hermione, Draco had already downed five drinks, and Harry and Gregory were both up to three. Weasley, who had seemed absolutely sloshed before the game had begun, looked like he may fall over at any moment after the four flipped glasses sitting before him. He was looking far too pleased with himself as he rolled the bottle between his hands, leaving everyone in the circle in eager suspense before he took his turn.

" Right, then, never have I ever kissed a bloke," Weasley laughed.

Draco reached for his sixth glass without a thought and tipped it back. He looked first to Harry, who's eyes were widening in surprise, and then to Gregory, who's eyes were glued to Draco's face. Gregory looked like he wanted to say something – his mouth was moving at least – but then Hermione was lifting the bottle above her head and drunkenly shouting that she had never had a cavity in her life. As only Finnigan and Harry knew what she was talking about, everyone shrugged and tipped a glass back.

The bottle was in Draco's hands before he knew it, and he found himself resting his chin on its lid as he tried to think. The pleasant hum in the back of his mind made it hard to think of anything, and Draco was vaguely surprised by the notion that, perhaps, he was too drunk. The thought made him laugh a little as he picked his head up, his mind zeroing in on the answer despite the hundreds of possibilities rolling through his brain.

" Never have I ever been this drunk," he proclaimed and was followed by cheers as most in the circle drank to that.

Draco passed the bottle off to Harry with a giggle, who sat in thought for only a moment before he was eagerly taking his turn.

" Never have I ever gotten a stupid tattoo."

" Oh, piss off, mate!" Ron shouted across the circle as Draco tossed back his last drink. "One drunk Pygmy Puff tattoo, and the man can't let it go!"

Seeming to realize what he had just done, Draco raised his fists with a triumphant yell. The circle erupted into applause, and several of the girl's screamed with him. They had all seemed to forget that this meant Draco had lost, not won, but no one cared. Hermione, who had just taken her eighth drink and who had become completely unravelled during the course of the game, went as far as to crawl across the circle and blindside Draco with a crushing hug. Draco found himself laughing beneath her weight before he was stumbling to his feet and demanding that the music be turned up.

He was then pulling off his tail and horns, the jacket soon following, and dragging Hermione out into the middle of the room to dance with him. Draco was convinced that he loved this song, it had to be his favourite, as he spun her around and pulled her in and out. They were coordinated in their attempt for all of three minutes before Draco was just dancing with his hands above his head and his eyes closed.

They opened again when a new pair of hands enveloped his own. Draco looked up hopefully for Gregory but found Harry in his place. Though his smile fell slightly, he held onto the hands gripping him and let Harry pull him around. Draco even let him spin him out and then in until his back was pressed against Harry's chest, at which point Draco was laughing uncontrollably. Feeling more free in that moment than he had in his entire life, he let himself be pulled and spun and led around spontaneously. As the music changed, he and Harry were just jumping around, still connected by their hands, and shouting along to the lyrics of a song Draco never would have admitted to knowing if he were sober.

But it couldn't last forever, and Draco ran into his proverbial wall quite hard. He found himself on his knees in front of a bin and puking with a gusto that could not be rivalled. Someone was rubbing his back and speaking softly to him, Draco could not tell who, and then he was being fed something that tasted like peppermint after the entirety of the contents of his stomach had been emptied. His head was in his arms, loud groans escaping his mouth, when strong arms lifted him up, and he found himself nestled against a solid chest.

" Is he going to be alright?" Harry's face was distorted in the flashing lights, so Draco shut his eyes to block it out.

" Yeah, I think so. I'll watch him tonight, and if he gets worse, I'll take him down to Madam Pomfrey."

Then Draco was swaying as the person cradling him began to walk. He opened his eyes after a time to find Gregory's face swimming in and out of his vision. Draco was smiling then, and reaching a hand up to touch it. A childish whine spilled from his lips when he missed it completely, and so he fumbled for him again, this time accidentally slapping him.

"' M sorry," Draco murmured and rubbed his hand against the spot he'd hit, pulling a laugh from Gregory.

" That's quite alright. How are you feeling?" Gregory's voice sounded like sugar, and Draco was sure that if he tried it, his mouth would taste like candy.

" Hungry," he groaned out. "'N sleepy, 'n sick."

" I know you are. You'll feel better in the morning," Gregory answered gently.

" You...yo-you are so nice. 'N you are just so so cute," Draco mumbled, patting Gregory's cheek once more.

" Oh yeah?" Gregory laughed and looked down at him.

" Yeah, the cutest. Cuter than the cutest. I think you're beautiful."

Gregory was quiet, and as Draco thumped against his chest, mind wandering blissfully, he was conscious that they were moving up the stairs. He was wiggling to get down as soon as Gregory opened the door to their dormitory, but Draco stumbled when his feet hit the floor. Gregory's hands caught his waist, and Draco giggled as he hung in the balance for a moment. Gregory was laughing too when he pulled Draco back up, and the latter found himself falling forward against Gregory's chest.

Everything was quiet then, and Draco peered up at Gregory through his eyelashes. Gregory was staring at him with a strange intensity in his eyes, and it made Draco's stomach flip. A slow smile pulled at his lips despite it, and as Draco tilted his head, he found Gregory's eyes moving down to his lips. Draco fought the urge to lick them, and instead laid his hands on Gregory's shoulders to steady himself.

" Gregory?" his voice held a strange fragility.

" Yes, Draco?"

" Do you want to kiss me?"

Gregory's eyes flicked back up to meet Draco's, and he could see the struggle there.

" I do," Gregory said after a moment, and leaned down to kiss Draco's forehead. Draco held still, expecting more, but then Gregory was shaking his head and pulling back. "But not like this. You're drunk. I'm drunk too, but not as drunk as you. And if you wake up tomorrow, and you still want to kiss me, I swear I will kiss you a thousand times. But I can't tonight. I'm sorry."

" S'kay, Gregory." Draco gave him a smile and slipped out of his arms. "I think I'm going to bed, now."

Draco wriggled out of the remains of his costume and into his night clothes before rolling into bed. As he pulled the sheets up around his shoulders, his forehead pleasantly warm from where Gregory's lips had touched it, Draco could not help but think that Halloween might not be so terrible after all.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to my Betas, Amber1015 and ShadowHeart175!
> 
> The characters and universe in this work are property of J.K Rowling.

Draco Malfoy was having what was possibly the best dream ever when a shouting match woke him from his deep sleep. He had been leaning against Gregory, feeling braver than he ever had in his entire life, and he was asking him for a kiss. But then Gregory was pulling away – a ridiculous gentlemanly move that had Dream Draco swooning and Reality Draco rolling his eyes – and telling him that he was too drunk and should go to bed. Unless… no, that couldn't possibly be it. There was no way that had actually happened, because Dream Gregory had been very adamant about how he wanted to kiss him, and it was nearly impossible that Reality Gregory would ever say those words to him.

_ Nearly… _

Draco squashed his longing subconscious, and instead opened his eyes to clear the fog from his mind. Filled with deep regret only moments later as the sunlight seemed to pierce directly through his eyes and into his brain, he dragged the blanket over his head and gave a great groan. The shouting, now escalated into screaming and the occasional shattering of objects, grew louder as the door was opened. Draco felt prepped to kill at the chuckle the perpetrator gave, but did not come out from under his shelter.

" I see you're handling your hangover well?"

Of course it was Harry, the smug git. Draco could think of no one more perfect to take his hangover out on. This was his fault, after all.

" Piss off," Draco snarled back, muffled slightly by the covers. "My head is killing me."

" Then I've got just the thing for you, my grumpy friend. Come out from under there now, drink up."

Peering out from under the blanket, Draco glared at Harry. The Gryffindor was looking far too pleased with himself, and infuriatingly not hungover. He was holding out a phial of something orange in his stupid hands, and if Draco's head weren't pounding so badly, he was sure he'd be able to figure out what it was. As that wasn't an option open to him at the moment, he was helpless to do much else but ask.

" You expect me to just toss that back without knowing what it is?"

" Wouldn't be the first time." Harry laughed loudly, and Draco's head felt like it had been struck by lightning. "You got a bit wild after the game ended. I could hardly keep up with you and all the drinks you threw back."

" Spare me the details of last night, and tell me what that is before I hex you."

" Invigoration Draught. 'Mione whipped up a bunch while you were napping yesterday. Looks like they're being put to very good use."

Draco took the bottle without further complaint when Harry held it out to him once more and pulled out the stopper before tipping it back. He gagged as it hit his tongue, and almost spit it up before managing to get it down. Harry was laughing at him again, but as Draco's symptoms began fading, he found he didn't mind so much.

" Right foul, isn't it?" Draco mused.

" Well, I suppose it can't taste good, can it? Too many people would just never sleep if it did. Feeling better now?"

" Immensely. Want to tell me what's going on downstairs? It woke me up."

Harry's face lit up and a grin pulled up the corners of his mouth as he sat himself down on the end of Draco's bed.

" Oi, no shoes!" Draco complained when Harry pulled his feet up with him.

" Do you want to hear the story or not?" he chided, but slid his shoes off anyway.

" I had no idea you were such a keen gossip, Harry! No wonder you and McGonagall get on so well, eh?"

" Shut it and listen, or so help me, I will leave!"

Draco rolled his eyes, but made a show of zipping his lips. Upon Harry's disbelieving stare, he took it a step further, locking them and throwing away the key.

" Now that's settled… it was pretty obvious that a lot of people were wasted last night, but some of them had already been partying before they even showed up."

Nodding idly, Draco could not see how this had anything to do with the fighting downstairs.

" So, you remember how Pavarti and Ernie were all over each other last night?"

" Ugh, don't remind me. They were being so gross after the game ended! I couldn't tell where one of them started and the other stopped when they were dancing with each other."

" That's just the thing!  _ They  _ weren't dancing!" Harry exclaimed, looking near ready to burst.

" What do you mean? I saw her lead him out of the room, it was definitely them."

" No, Draco! You saw Ernie, but that wasn't Pavarti that you saw. It was  _ Padma _ ."

" You shut up!" Draco gasped, eyes wide. "She did not! To her own sister?"

" She did! I suppose it didn't help that they came as Siamese cats – can you really blame Ernie?"

" Yes?" Draco scoffed. "What sort of idiot can't tell the difference between his girlfriend and her twin sister? It's really not that hard if you know them well enough, which one should expect from their bloody boyfriend. So, is that them I'm hearing? I'm sure Pavarti is tearing into Macmillan."

" That's where you'll be disappointed, then. Ernie's getting off scot-free. It's Padma and Pavarti that are going at it now. The common room's a mess. People are trying to console Pavarti and calm her down, but as I was coming up the stairs, I saw her try to jinx Padma. I'd be careful going down there if I were you."

" What happened to start it up today?"

" I heard from the Great Hall that Pavarti walked in on them asleep in the bed together and started shouting straight off the bat. Padma had just enough time to cover herself up before Pavarti pulled her out into the common room by her hair. It took three Beaters to pull her off Padma, and then two more to keep Padma from getting back at her."

Draco blew out a breath and shook his head slowly. Girls were crazy, in his opinion, and he was quite glad that he had never found them that attractive. Seemed as though they were more trouble than they were worth.

" What time is it, anyway?" Draco mused, stretching over to his bedside table to get at his pocket watch.

The clock face read 2:45, and Draco rubbed thoughtfully at his brow. He'd missed lunch, but he was sure that he could last until dinner. That was when he looked up and saw the plate of food sitting on the top of the table. When had that gotten there? Harry must have brought it up with him, but Draco couldn't remember seeing it in his hands.

" Oh, thanks for the plate. That was thoughtful of you."

" That wasn't me. I'm just the man with the hangover cure," Harry answered with a shrug.

" Strange. Who's it from then?"

A scrap of parchment fluttered down from the plate as he pulled it onto his lap, and Draco got his answer. Gregory had written him a short note in his sloppy scrawl, and even though there was nothing remotely romantic to it, his rebellious heart still skipped a beat. That dream was affecting him far too much, and Draco knew that he could not afford to let these feelings become his new normal. If he lost Gregory over something as silly as his fanciful emotions, Draco would never forgive himself.

" So?" Harry asked, and Draco realized he'd forgotten his friend was there.

" It's just from Gregory. He told me to eat everything he left here, and that it would make me feel better." Suddenly feeling strange about sharing that with Harry, Draco changed the subject. "Do you know where Hermione is? I told her I'd study with her today once I woke up."

" I haven't seen much of her, but I'd assume if she's studying, she's in the library. Not like she'd be able to concentrate much here."

" True. Thank you for the draught, Harry." Draco turned a smile on him. "It helped a lot."

" You're welcome. I figure I better get out of here before you rope me into this studying business. Greg's right though, you should definitely eat all that. Water is your friend today too," Harry said lightly as he pushed himself to his feet. "I'm off to brave the common room once more. I think I'll head down to the pitch with Ron for a while."

" Be brave, Harry. They can't hurt you as long as you don't look them in the eye."

Harry laughed and pulled the door shut behind him, leaving Draco alone to collect his thoughts. Where was Gregory then? Maybe he was avoiding him? No, that was a silly thought. There was no way Gregory could know about his dream, therefore he would have no reason to avoid him. Unless Draco had done something else embarrassing last night. He needed to find Hermione, and fast, but first, he had a plate of food calling his name.

…

As Hermione was exactly where he thought she would be, Draco had no difficulty finding her. Her bushy hair was just barely visible over the large stacks of books piled in front of her, and Draco could tell from her furious muttering that she was concentrating hard on the parchment before her. The feather tip of the quill tickled her lips as she wrote quickly, but if it bothered her in the slightest, she gave no sign. Draco stood there for another moment as she finished up, knowing fully well that interrupting her now she was in the zone would be the end of him. When she finally put her quill down, he cleared his throat and stepped closer to the table.

Hermione's eyes flew up to his face, and her shoulders dropped, the tension seeming to drain from her body, as a smile pushed its way onto her face. Draco, as he had done a lot lately, marvelled at the realization that this was his life now. He'd never thought this would ever happen to him. Never in his life had he even vaguely suspected that one day Hermione Granger could smile at him, like she was glad for his company. But there she was, her toothy grin warming his heart as he pulled out a chair and set his bag down by the table.

" Thank goodness you're here, Draco. I'm completely swamped. Can you look over my rough draft for Arithmancy? I'm pretty sure it's terrible."

Hermione shook the parchment a bit to quickly dry any wet ink and passed it off to Draco's waiting hands. He was itching to ask her about last night, so he bent over the essay without complaint, trying to reach the point quicker. Reading through it with a keen, but quick eye, he found only two grammatical errors, and handed it back to her.

" It looks fine. I've just fixed your commas there, and there," he said as he pointed to the spots. "Everything else is great."

" Oh, thank you, Draco. You really are a great help. It's so nice to have a friend who cares about his assignments for once. Now, if you could just–"

" Actually, Hermione, before we continue studying, is there something you could do for me?"

Hermione's head popped up from the book she was about to bury herself in in a manner similar to a whack-a-mole, a delightful game the muggle he'd met that summer showed him. It was almost enough to make Draco laugh, but the questions he had burning in his brain kept the mirth subdued. She gave him an apologetic smile and made a gesture with her hands.

" Of course! Look at me, blabbing away. What do you need, Draco?"

Pausing briefly, Draco suddenly asked himself if he even wanted to know the extent of what he'd done. Would it be too embarrassing to bear, or had he managed to keep his cool despite his inebriation? Then, Draco reminded himself that if he thought he could continue without knowing he wouldn't have felt the urgent need to ask.

" How much of last night do you remember?"

" What do you mean?" she asked, her lips twisting into a puzzled frown.

" I mean, did I, you know-?" Draco struggled for the words to the exact question he wanted to ask. "Did I do anything foolish, or embarrassing?"

" Oh." One of Hermione's hands flew up to cover the mischievous smile that appeared there, and Draco could tell that she was trying to suppress a giggle. He grimaced, but she reached across the table to take his hand. "I wouldn't call what you did foolish, or embarrassing, but you certainly were having fun. It was a good look on you, Draco, you should do it more often."

" You're one to talk!" Draco cried, and earned himself a glare from Madam Pince. Lowering his voice, he continued, "You were looser than I've ever seen you! I'm just glad that you and Weasley spared us from a public show. If I ever saw Weasley that way, I'd have to rip my own eyes out and destroy them."

" Well, we may have kept to ourselves, but you certainly didn't," she answered, flashing him a knowing smile.

" What do you mean?" Draco demanded.

What had he done? Who saw it? How detrimental would this all be to his reputation?

" I really shouldn't tell you this…"

" Granger, I swear if you don't tell me I'll-"

" I'm only joking! You were just dancing."

Draco hated the way she raised her eyebrows suggestively. It left a sinking feeling in his stomach.

" What kind of dancing? With who?"

" Harry!"

Letting out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, Draco relaxed into his seat.

" Only Harry? Come on, Hermione, you were making it sound way worse than that."

" Well, you danced with me too, but you weren't clinging to me the way you were clinging to him."

" What are you talking about? I was drunk, it's no wonder I couldn't stand up straight."

Hermione held her hands up in surrender, but did not remove the coy look from her face.

" Be that as it may, I'm only stating facts. And the facts are that you and Harry were pressed up against each other and swaying to the music."

" That doesn't mean anything."

" Apparently you thought so last night, too, because pretty soon after that you threw up on his shoes and ran for the bin."

Draco groaned and slowly sank until his forehead was pressed against the table.

" Please, tell me I didn't."

" You did, my friend. Neville was almost in the splash zone because he helped you to it."

" I can't ever look either of them in the eye again."

" Oh, calm down. You're being dramatic; both of them were nearly as drunk as you were. They were mostly just concerned for you, but Gregory gave you a spot of Pepper-Up Potion to keep you from puking again and carried you off to your dorm. Most everyone was gone by then anyway. It was just us and two or three others."

" Speaking of Gregory," Draco began as he lifted his head. He tried desperately to keep the hope out of his voice. "Did I have any particularly strange encounters with him?"

Hermione pursed her lips, and Draco could see her mind working to think back. She eventually shrugged and shook her head.

" I don't know, Draco. The only times I saw you together were during the game, and when he left with you. You could have embarrassed yourself after that, but I certainly wouldn't know about it. I'm sorry."

" Ah, don't be. Have you seen him though? Gregory, I mean? He left some food on a plate for me, but didn't say where he'd be today."

" I'm afraid I haven't, Draco. He did mention something to me yesterday about extra potions lessons, but I don't know when he was supposed to take them."

Draco swallowed his disappointment as quickly as he could, and gave Hermione his most convincing smile.

" That's alright. Now, what are we on to next? Ancient Runes, or Potions?"

…

When Draco left the library, the sun was sinking behind the hills. It cast an eerie shadow on the corridor, and he was beginning to regret not leaving when Hermione had earlier. He clutched his bag a little closer to him and steeled his nerves, shutting the library door confidently and starting off. Paranoia rising higher the longer it took him to reach the end, Draco began walking faster and faster until he had almost broken into a run. He ran into a figure rounding the corner, an audible thud sounding through the hall as bodies collided.

Draco fell to the floor, his bag slipping off his shoulder and the stranger's books thunking to the ground in front of him. The wind knocked out of him, Draco wheezed out an apology and pushed himself up to see the other person in better light. Theodore Nott's pinched face was focused toward the floor as he looked for his books, a sneer on his lips and surprise in his eyes. 

" Watch it, would you?"

" Sorry, Nott. It was an accident."

" Malfoy? Didn't realize it was you." He didn't sound apologetic or hostile, but this neutrality didn't surprise Draco in the least.

" Here, let me help you," Draco murmured as he stacked Nott's books up.

Nott held Draco's bag out to him once he had finished with the books, and Draco shouldered it easily. Once there was no more work to be done, an awkward silence fell between them. Draco and Nott had never been close friends. Nott was content to be left to his own devices for the most part, but he'd always hung out with Draco, Pansy, and Zabini when it came time to make Potter miserable. Now that Draco thought about it, he was pretty sure the last time he and Nott had even spoken was the end of Fifth year. Before his entire life had changed.

Nott never followed in his father's footsteps, and Draco had never had reason to put his confidence in the other before. It was no surprise they'd lost touch, but knowing this did not make their encounter any less uncomfortable, especially not when Draco remembered what Zabini had said about what Nott thought about him. Overcome with the desire to just get out of there, Draco gave his old friend a half smile.

" Haven't seen you around much. I hope you're well."

" I am," Nott answered with a tone that was impersonal, but polite.

" Well, then." Draco paused, nodding toward the way Nott had come. "I better be going. Good luck with your," he glanced over at the books in Nott's arms, and the other boy adjusted his arms to cover their titles. "Studying."

Nott simply gave him a nod, and Draco walked as briskly as he could without seeming like he was running away. As his stomach was audibly growling, Draco swung by the dining hall to grab something to eat before he escaped back up to his dorm. He paused outside of the door as he heard raised voices coming from within, a frown pulling at his mouth.

" It's gone, Ron! I haven't seen it all day." 

" Relax, mate, to anyone else it's just a dodgy piece of parchment that tells bad jokes. No one here knows about the map but you, me, and 'Mione. It'll turn up."

" And if it doesn't? McGonagall would kill me if she knew I had such a dangerous thing and left it lying around. Surely I didn't take it to the party? Merlin, it could have been in the pocket of those pants-"

Draco decided that he had heard quite enough, enough to feel bad for eavesdropping, and made a show of tramping up the last few stairs. Harry and Weasley fell quiet by the time Draco pushed open their door.

" Hi, Draco, how was your day?"

" Just fine. Hermione and I-"

" That's great to hear. Hey, Ron, remember that important thing I was telling you about at dinner?"

" Are you off your rocker? What are you talking about?"

Draco didn't have to be watching them closely to know that Harry was hitting Weasley. He rolled his eyes at their blatant secrecy but didn't care enough to dig for an answer.

" Oh,  _ right _ , the  _ thing  _ we have to do. Yeah, I remember. Let's, uh, let's go do that thing."

" Well, bye, Draco! See you later!"

With that train wreck of an excuse done with, Draco was finally alone, and able to sprawl out on his bed. He reached into his bag for a book, and frowned when he realized it wasn't at the top. Digging deeper in, his fingers closed around an envelope and his blood ran cold. Hands trembling as badly as they had on the day of his trial, he slowly pulled the letter out and laid it on his bed, his wand following shortly. He prodded at the envelope with it, racking his head for any charms he could use to detect a hidden curse. Finding the envelope to be clean, he slipped the parchment out and unfolded it. What he found there made him sick to his stomach.

_ Malfoy- _

_ Did you enjoy the surprise I sent you in my last letter? I thought you might. Felt like it would be a good...touch. Don't worry, there's nothing in this one. I just wanted to give you a little reminder as to who's really in control here. I'd say you're getting off easy with the Dragon Poison – you should be bosom buddies with the dementors right about now. I've been keeping a close eye on you, Malfoy. I was there last night, and I saw you watching Goyle all night long. Maybe no one else knows your dirty secret, but I do. And if you don't want it getting out, you'll follow my instructions in my next letter very carefully. _

_ I'll be watching. _

There was no possible way this blackmailer knew about that. No one knew about his feelings for Gregory – he hadn't told a single soul. He couldn't even remember  _ looking  _ at Gregory outside of that stupid game, let alone watching him for a prolonged length of time. Then again, according to Hermione, there was a lot he couldn't remember from the party last night. How did this person manage to slip the letter into his bag? It hadn't left his side but for the few minutes he had set it on the floor in the library, and even then, no one had come down their aisle. There were so many pieces of this puzzle that Draco just didn't know – couldn't see. One thing Draco did know was that this had to stop. He was sick of looking over his shoulder walking down an empty corridor. His nerves couldn't take another mysterious letter like this.

When the next one came, Draco would put an end to this.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to my Betas, Amber1015 and ShadowHeart175!
> 
> The characters and universe in this work are property of J.K Rowling.

Quietly humming the tune of a song he'd swayed to lifetimes ago in a muggle bar, Draco sat propped up comfortably against his favourite tree by the lake. Despite the book sitting patiently in his lap, he was staring out over the dark water as it ebbed and swept back up, and if Draco listened hard enough, he could hear it slapping lightly against the bank. The soft plupping was a comforting sound, one he had not listened to since he was fifteen, and when he shut his eyes, it was easy for Draco to pretend that he was back there once more. Young and insecure, but facing no real problems; Draco would trade all of the riches he possessed to transport himself back to one of those easier afternoons and rewrite his history. But it was bittersweet, only wishful thinking, and Draco knew that this could not be done.

Still, it was nice being out in the open air. The blanket he'd brought along to sit on was a gift from Minny, given to him on his way out the door on September first. She made sure to tell him that she had knit it herself – but only ever in her free time, after everyone had gone to bed – and Draco could not have been more touched by her thoughtfulness. In this way, the small elf reminded him once more of Dobby, and Draco felt a sharp pang in his heart for not appreciating him sooner. Minny's pattern was simple, but perfect, and when she presented Draco with the Slytherin crested blanket he was overcome with the urge to hug her. Though he did not, he made sure to take her tiny hand in his and tell Minny just how grateful he was that she thought of him. She had only stammered and shied away, but as Draco moved to the porch to apparate, he thought he saw her give a toothy grin.

As he was sitting on that very same blanket, his shoes lying in the grass at the edge and a scarf wrapped around his neck, Draco pondered the changes around him. The season was beginning to turn, and despite the sun's best efforts to warm the Earth under it, the air was undoubtedly growing colder and colder as November progressed. Leaves had begun to fall, decorating parts of Hogwart's lawn in a wonderful patchwork quilt of yellow, brown, orange, and red. Draco could smell them as they turned and faded away, leaving a sort of musk clouding the air closest to the ground. It was not an unpleasant smell, and Draco shut his eyes to take it in. With the sun on his face and a breeze blowing idly through his hair, Draco did not open them until a shadow fell over him.

When he did, he was both shocked and pleased to find Gregory there. A welcoming smile quickly split his face, and Draco allowed himself to take a moment and look Gregory over. Though it should have been impossible, Gregory had grown at least another inch since September, and the hem of his pants now almost revealed his ankles. His shirts still fit him well enough – although once, while watching Gregory move his trunk across the room, Draco had feared his muscles would tear straight through his white button down. Draco ended up at his face and briefly indulged himself there. His jaw was harder, stronger than it had been even a year ago, and the frown lines Gregory procured from his more difficult lessons had only become more pronounced, but a deeper look showed Draco what he was searching for. Same sweet smile, same understanding eyes, same little scar just above his left eyebrow from a game gone wrong in their childhood. No matter how Gregory changed, Draco could always find him there, hiding just behind the ever-changing planes of his face. 

Realizing he'd likely been staring for too long, Draco cleared his throat and held up a hand to shield his eyes from the sun.

"So, ah, what brings you out here?"

"Looking for you," Gregory answered, and Draco's heart jumped hopefully.

"Why's that?"

"I haven't seen you in almost a week. I know we've both been busy, but I just wanted to catch up and check in."

Trying to swallow his disappointment, Draco pushed a smile onto his face and made room on the blanket for him.

"I'm fine. Just taking a moment to relax amongst all this coursework. Been staying up late to study with Hermione, and getting up early to tutor Harry."

"Oh, are you? That's great, that's just great... Must be annoying to tutor though, eh?"

Gregory asked, something strange in his words. However, as he was unable to put a finger on just what it was that felt off, Draco only gave a little shrug.

"I don't mind it so much. He's a good student, actually. He just needs to be taken through it two or three times when it comes to Potions."

"From what I recall, Potter seemed to be able to handle Potions just fine."

There it was again. If Draco let his imagination run away with him, he could almost say that Gregory sounded jealous. As that was a completely ridiculous notion, he dismissed it immediately.

"Well, are you just going to stand there, or are you going to sit down with me?" Draco teased, giving the space beside him a small pat.

"Right, right," Gregory answered, kicking off his shoes as well before falling into a similar position to Draco.

While the tree was thick enough to support both of their backs, it was still a tight squeeze, and as Gregory's arm pressed against his, Draco's stomach erupted in a nervous sort of fluttering. He knew this sort of behaviour was pathetic, but Draco could not help the sad romantic he'd become over the summer.

Muggle media, a treat that Draco had consumed in mass quantity, all seemed to be driven by the notion of love. He could recall protagonists rushing in to break up weddings and sacrificing themselves as a giant ship snapped in half if there was even the slightest hint that someone loved them. It was ironic, in a sense, that Draco had seen all of these "movies" with someone who had absolutely not loved him, and it was a piece of irony he did not like to dwell on. He liked to, instead, remind himself that despite the company he'd kept, the moving pictures were art in a new form that he adored. It was all about the new experience for him, not who he was with.

Even more enjoyable than the "cinema" were the books. Those were what had truly entrapped Draco in the silly idea of love, but he couldn't be blamed for their beautiful words or the wonderful pictures that made his heart beat faster. Courtship, triumphs, losses, love – he revelled in them. They were all things Draco would never be able to partake in, because if there was one thing that had come from the summer, it was the realization that Draco would never marry. With the uncertainty of his mother's reaction to the object of his pining filling him with anxiety, Draco figured it would be easier if he decided then, in that moment, to be alone. This made losing himself in a book a gift, an act that came more easily to him than blinking or breathing.

"What are you reading?"

The question broke him from his thoughts, and Draco turned to Gregory with a half-smile.

"A book."

"Obviously," Gregory answered, rolling his eyes. "What's it called? What's it about? You've got to give me more than that."

" _ The Great Gatsby _ . It's a novel set in New York over in America about a man named Nick who befriends a rich man named Gatsby. Gastby thinks he's in love with Nick's cousin, Daisy, who's married and has a child. It is revealed that they know each other from their youth, and they begin an affair. That's as far as I've gotten, though. I do know that things go badly, and Gatsby is killed, but that's only because Pelle spoiled the entire twist for me when he gave me the book."

"Pelle?" Gregory asked, cocking his head. "Who's Pelle?"

Draco froze. Had he said his name? Truly? After all this time, after all he'd done to forget him, he'd said it aloud. Draco wanted to scream. His stomach heaved and old disappointments threatened to choke him, but Draco swallowed all of this back down and ran his fingers across the cover of the book. It was only a beat before he opened his mouth to give an answer, and he hoped that it wasn't enough to tip off Gregory.

"An old friend from the summer."

"Well, why didn't you mention him? I would have liked to meet your summer friends."

"We weren't exactly friends by the time I came back to you. It ended on bad terms, and I didn't want to bring up my ancient drama," Draco answered breezily, praying that this nonchalance would turn Gregory off the subject entirely. Of course, Draco knew that he would be wrong.

"I'm sorry, then. It must have been hard on you."

Draco turned his face away from the boy sitting next to him in favour of looking out over the dark water.

"It wasn't so bad. I was pretty much alone after that, but I learned a lot about myself, and I taught myself some new things. I was a horrible little ponce in school, but for the most part, I like who I've become now."

They sat in the silence that followed for a long while, though a sense of understanding passed between them in the quiet. Draco thought he liked these moments with Gregory best of all. There was no one, with perhaps the exception of Mother, who knew him as well as Gregory did. Draco liked it that way.

"Is there anything else you've read?" Gregory asked.

Turning back to him with a curious smile, Draco quirked up an eyebrow.

"Since when are you so interested in literature?"

"What, you still can't believe that I can read?"

Draco scoffed as Gregory laughed at him.

"I said that when we were twelve!  _ Twelve _ ! When are you going to let that one go? I don't even know how you found out about that, anyway. Harry told me about the polyjuice."

"A man has his ways, Draco, and I am afraid to say that I am never letting that go. Of course I could read, but why would I ever do it myself when you could just do it for me?"

"And so, the truth comes out!" Draco crowed, pointing a finger at Gregory. "That's why you've been my friend all these years!"

Gregory snatched his hand from the air as if it were a snitch, holding it firmly in his own. Draco's stomach jumped at the contact, and he tried to keep his head on his shoulders. This couldn't be happening right now. Gregory was in dangerous territory, and it took all of Draco's restraint to keep from fleeing.

"It was a definite factor, but I've stuck with you for far more than that. Now, stop dodging my question and tell me what books you've been reading, or else I'll have to assume that there's a reason you've been so secretive about their contents."

Blushing furiously at what Gregory was hinting, Draco slipped his hand free and shoved him lightly with his elbow.

"Gross, Gregory. They're only muggle books. Some of them are completely mental, but I will admit that I've really been enjoying them. I was reading one called  _ Frankenstein  _ back in September-"

"The green guy with the bolts?"

"No! You know, you and Harry could both benefit from actually picking up a book sometime."

"Right, sorry. What else?"

Draco thought back to all the books he'd torn through that summer and found that he could remember most of them with a distinct fondness.

" _ Wuthering Heights, Lord of the Flies, Dracula, _ to name a few. Some poetry here and there," he mused. "I enjoyed them all, and there are some of them that I think you'd like too."

"Is that all you did this summer? Read?"

"Not quite. I picked up a few other things as well. Have you heard of movies?"

Gregory's eyebrows knit together, and he shook his head.

"Well, they're almost like our photos and portraits, but there's something strange about them. They move in and out of frames like ours do, but instead of having their own thoughts and will, they move the same way each time. You can try to tell them to do something different, but they never listen. I don't think they can even hear you. There's another thing; they can talk like portraits too, but they only ever speak to each other. You pay with muggle currency to sit in the dark as they move about and live their lives, and you get no say in it. The most important rule is that you're to sit quietly the whole time, otherwise a rude old bat will turn around and shush you."

"Sitting in the dark, not being allowed to talk, and portraits completely ignoring you? That sounds lonely, Draco."

"But it simply isn't! It's a wonderful experience, Gregory, I'll have to take you over the holidays. I know you'll love it."

"Alright, so books, movies – is there anything else that I should know about?"

Draco laid his head back against the bark behind him, pursing his lips and turning his eyes up to look at the branches.

"I learned how to cook. Muggle food isn't cheap at restaurants, and I couldn't keep converting Galleons to pounds, it was getting too expensive. So, I took a class or two, and I've gotten pretty good at it."

"Oh, have you?" Gregory asked, and Draco slid his gaze over to look at him. "Now that you've said that… you have to cook for me. I don't make the rules, I just enforce them."

Draco laughed and pushed off the tree to sit up properly.

"Oh, I  _ have  _ to, do I? Well, how about right now? The house-elves should be done with lunch, I don't think they'd object to us using the kitchen."

Draco's stomach fluttered at the smile Gregory gave him, and he found himself stuck in his spot even after the other boy stood up. It was pathetic how smitten he was, but Draco had no time to dwell on that as Gregory offered him a hand and pulled him to his feet. Draco hid his embarrassment in favour of slipping his shoes on and stooping down to fold up the blanket, one question repeating itself over and over in his mind.  _ What was happening to him _ ?

It was a short walk from their tree to the castle, and an even shorter one from the Great Hall to the kitchens. Draco led Gregory through an inconspicuous door and down the old stone steps, the pair stopping as they encountered the brightly lit corridor. It was, perhaps, the antithesis of the dungeon corridor where their old dormitory lay, which made it fitting that Hufflepuffs would live here. Though Draco did not know which painting their dorms were hidden behind, it did not matter. He knew how to get where he wanted to go. Approaching the painting of the fruit bowl, Draco reached out and lightly tickled the pear. The fruit transfigured into a large green handle, and so Draco pushed it open and pulled an open-mouthed Gregory through behind him.

Hundreds of short elves rushed around them, checking stockpiles and cleaning large pots and trays. Draco smiled a little and stepped back out of the way of one as it ran by him, careful not to get in its way. The tiny thing grumbled and turned its withered face toward Draco, only for it to split into a ghastly grin. Draco gave a puzzled frown as it bowed low before him, and Gregory leaned forward to whisper in his ear.

"Do you know this elf?"

"Young Master Malfoy has given Kreacher a great gift this day. A generous gift, Master Malfoy. A gift Kreacher is not worthy of."

Draco glanced around himself as other elves began to stop and stare before leaning down and gently pulling Kreacher up to stand.

"Please, don't bow to me, I'm not your master. You should say hello to Gregory too."

"Young Master Malfoy has forgotten his place, his rite in the traditions. Young Master Malfoy is gone now," Kreacher grumbled, turning a baleful eye on Draco before going to shuffle away. "Kreacher does not see Master Malfoy anymore, no, he doesn't. Even if Master Malfoy stands before him, Kreacher does not see him."

Great, even the house-elves didn't like him. Draco stood, shellshocked, and watched Kreacher scuttle off. He thought he recognized him then, finally placing him as the elf that helped the Dark Lord in his mission for the prophecy. The one who had fed his mother and Aunt Bella information about Sirius. Shuddering, Draco wondered how he had gotten there. He didn't have much time for this, however, as a sharp crack resounded in the kitchens and a joyful squeak rose up from one of the elves.

"Master Draco!"

Merlin, was that Minny? Draco whipped his head around as she ran to him, hopping gleefully from foot to foot. She was there, she was really there. Draco gave a bewildered laugh and kneeled down to her level.

"What on earth are you doing here, Minny?"

"Master Draco, it is being so good to see you! Mistress asked Minny to update her on how you was doing here at Hogwarts, and so smart Minny asked Potts to be telling her anything he is hearing about you! Potts told Minny right away that you was here, and Minny came to ask you how you are being!"

Gregory gave a little chuckle, and kneeled next to Draco.

"And you, Mister Gregory, is needing to be told that your mother is missing you, and that she is being well. She asked Minny to tell you that as soon as Minny was seeing you."

"Thank you, Minny, please tell her that I'm well too."

"Oh, yes sir! And how is Master Draco being? Mistress will be wanting to know."

"You can tell Mother that I'm just fine, and that I'll write more about it to her soon." Draco smiled and gestured to his blanket. "Thank you, again, Minny. This has really come in handy to me."

"Master Draco is being very welcome! Minny was happy to make it for his using. What is Master Draco doing in the kitchens down here?"

She gasped as soon as the words left her lips, and as Draco saw her dashing to the table, he lunged after her.

"Minny, no! Stop that!" he cried as he wrapped his arms around her middle and hauled her back from it.

She froze, stiffer than a board, in his arms, but wailed as large tears leaked from her eyes.

"Master Draco, Minny has to punish herself! Minny was breaking rules, she was asking questions of Master Draco! Minny is not allowed to be doing that!"

"Minny, I order you never to punish yourself in front of me, understand? Do you hear me?"

Giving giant sniffles that shook her entire body, Minny nodded her understanding. Draco let out a breath and released her, straightening her dishrag dress, pushing the bright sunflower pattern back into sorts. He looked her over once more before he was conscious of Gregory, who was still standing behind him with wide eyes.

"There, now, that's not so bad, is it?" Draco murmured and pushed himself to his feet. "It's perfectly fine to ask me questions, Minny. To answer yours, I was hoping to use the kitchen to make something small to eat. Maybe treacle tart? Do you think Potts would be okay with that, Minny?"

"Oh, yes, sir! Minny can be helping you too! Minny can be going to get ingredients for Master Draco and sir to make the treat!"

Draco gave a grin, pleased to see that she had recovered from her episode, and sent her on her way. He pulled Gregory behind him and over to the nearest oven before sitting at the table to wait.

"What was that about?" Gregory asked, and Draco searched his eyes carefully.

"Minny is sweet and kind. It's barbaric that she should have to punish herself for asking a simple question, don't you agree?"

"I mean, I guess? But isn't that just what house elves do? I thought they had rules that they have to follow."

"It's easy to think about it that way, but living on my own for those months showed me just how difficult it is picking up after a wizard, especially picking up after a wizard like myself. It's not an easy job, so her life shouldn't be made any more difficult by punishing her over ridiculous and arbitrary things. Mother agrees with me, which is why we're trying to retrain her not to do those things. Mother and I like Minny a lot, and we want her around for a while."

Gregory nodded slowly, and Draco could practically see him processing the ideas Draco had presented. After only another short moment, he gave his final nod and looked over to him.

"I see what you mean, and I think I agree? It'll take a bit for me to wrap my head around it fully, but I can see that her loyalty to your family is strong. That speaks for something."

Draco opened his mouth to answer but shut it again promptly as Minny skittered over to the table with an armful of ingredients.

"Minny has brought the things for crust, Master Draco. Minny will get the things for filling next."

As she set the ingredients on the table, Draco did not even have the chance to thank her before she had run off once more.

"Right, then, shall we get started?" Draco asked, washing his hands and gesturing for Gregory to do the same.

Moving to the table Draco put some flour into a mixing bowl with salt and handed it off to Gregory to mix. It seemed that his downfall in potions would not leave him here, and as Gregory stirred too hard and too quickly, most of the flour puffed out onto his face and clothes. Draco couldn't help the laughter this forced from him, and as Gregory turned to him with a dangerous look, he tried to duck. This was unsuccessful, and Draco too was soon covered in a fine layer of flour. Gregory joined into his laughter then and Draco watched as he grabbed a wet rag to wipe his face off with.

Crossing over to Draco once he'd gotten most of it off himself, Gregory reached out with the rag to wipe the flour from Draco's forehead. Laughter faded to giggling as Gregory ran the rag down Draco's nose and cheeks, and by the time he was cleaning off Draco's chin, there were only a few, infrequent laughs left to share. A thick silence fell between them as Gregory brought the cloth up to wipe off Draco's lips. His heart felt as though it was about to emergency eject itself from his chest when Gregory's eyes lingered too long on his lips, and Draco fought the urge to lick them as they suddenly felt too dry.

"Master Draco, what a mess!"

Minny's surprised squeak saw the boys spring apart, and Draco blew out a tense breath as he went to help her clean it up. Running water told Draco that Gregory was grabbing another wet cloth, and as he brought it to help clean, Draco could not help admitting to himself that he was completely smitten. And with that thought, Draco knew he was doomed.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to my awesome Betas, Amber1015 and ShadowHeart175! You guys rock.
> 
> The characters and universe in this work are property of J.K Rowling.

"You look ridiculous, Harry," Draco said through a scowl as he picked half-heartedly at the scrambled eggs on his plate. "The only thing more tragic than your beard is the limp rat you're calling a moustache hanging above it."

Draco rolled his eyes as Harry mimed a stab to the chest.

"What, Draco? You don't like my full, thick beard? I think you're truly just jealous that you don't have a beard as big and luxurious as mine. I could probably braid it into something for you. Maybe a rose?"

Harry ran his fingers through the long, wiry beard that had sprouted on his chin, and, stomach lurching uncomfortably, Draco had to turn his eyes away to avoid losing the little breakfast he'd managed to eat. He abhorred facial hair of any sort, with the only exception being Dumbledore's pristine, almost regal beard. There was something about the rugged, uncivilized nature of a beard that made Draco's skin crawl. Looking at the groundskeeper still made him a bit ill, even after all these years, and he could not keep his eyes on Harry for more than a moment without fighting to keep his food down. He wanted to punch Weasley for laughing, but to do so would have meant Draco had to turn in Harry's direction.

Weasley's owl had brought him a package from his brother at the start of breakfast, and the two idiots dove right into its contents. Harry pulled out a spray bottle of what looked like expensive cologne and, without bothering to read its label, immediately turned it on himself. A cry of alarm rose from both Draco and Hermione as Harry's face erupted in a spring of fast-growing black hair until the Boy Who Lived was left with an embarrassingly long beard and moustache. Draco once again felt the urge to gag as he spotted a long black hair resting atop his eggs, but instead pushed them to the side and drew his wand on Harry.

"Get rid of it before I do," he growled, and Harry complied with a sheepish grin.

On top of his queasiness, Draco was by no means a morning person, and there was only so much he could put up with when it came to Harry's antics. If Harry began his tomfoolery this early, Draco would be ready to kill his newfound friend before lunch. 

A familiar screech had Draco's head turning toward the window, and he lifted his arm up as a perch once he recognized Anticlea, his mother's owl. The large owl landed softly on his forearm, and Draco offered her up some ham in exchange for the mail she dropped on the table. Ruffling her feathers and nipping Draco's finger in thanks, it wasn't much longer before Anticlea was spreading her wings and leaving the way she had come.

Two letters laid on the table before him, one face down and the other revealing itself to be from his mother. Reaching out to flip the other over, Draco's blood ran cold. Another letter from his 'pen pal'? It had been almost a month since he'd received a letter of this nature, and he knew he was a fool to let that lull him into dropping his guard. But how had his mother's owl been intercepted? Why was she unharmed? Draco had clearly underestimated his black mailer, and, with shaking hands, he stuffed both letters into his bag, but not before Gregory saw him.

"Who're those from?"

Draco wanted to scream. Couldn't things just go how he wanted for once?

"My mother. I suppose she forgot to mention something before she sealed the first, and so she wrote me another. I'll get to them later today."

Draco hated lying, but as Gregory shrugged and turned back to listen to Hermione scold Weasley and Harry for trying something without knowing what it did, he could see the necessity of it. Still, lying to Gregory made his skin crawl, and after a few minutes he could take no more of it. Standing from the table, Draco excused himself with the claim he needed to get some work done. He'd only made it a few steps before Hermione popped out of her seat and called after him, hurrying along with her own books to join him.

"Are you going to the library?" Hermione panted out, trying to match Draco's stride.

"No, not today, I don't really have much time for studying."

"Can you please? I only need your help for about an hour! My Ancient Runes exam is tomorrow, and you know how difficult that subject can be!"

Draco's initial instinct was to tell her to bugger off, but upon looking into her sad, desperate eyes, he saw no other option than to cave.

"Fine, alright,  _ one  _ hour, and then I've got things that need to be done."

"Oh, thank you, thank you!" she cried, looping an arm through one of Draco's and toting him down the corridor behind her.

…

One hour became two, then three, before Draco managed to escape Hermione's mounds of notes and textbooks. The curiosity and apprehension about these stupid, unopened letters were burning a hole in his brain, and as he hurried back toward his dorm, he found solace in the knowledge that he would soon be free to study them in peace, whatever they contained. Draco wound his way down the halls briskly, and almost made it past Slughorn before the professor reached a hand out to stop him.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy. You are just the young man I've been looking for today. Do you have a moment to chat with me in my office?"

The jovial smile directed toward him would have surprised Draco if he weren't in such a bloody hurry, and, rather than the validation he would have found there as a sixteen year old, Draco could feel only a surge of annoyance for this interruption. Shaking his head impatiently, Draco tried to step around him.

"No, Professor, I'm sorry. I'm really quite busy today-"

"Nonsense, m'boy," Slughorn persisted, the hand now resting on Draco's chest and holding him in place. "Besides, I think this chat will be of interest to you as well. It's about your friend, Mr. Goyle."

"Gregory?"

Draco paused then, torn between pushing past this geezer and stopping to hear what he had to say about Gregory. Loyalty inevitably won over curiosity, and he yielded his full attention toward Slughorn.

"Alright, what about Gregory?" Draco asked.

"Please, indulge me for a few minutes. My office is just down the hall. We'll have a treat, a chat, and then you'll be free to be on with your business."

Slughorn did not wait for an answer, and even as Draco opened his mouth to protest, he was disappearing down the hall. Seeing no other option than to follow him, Draco was filled with the temptation to stomp down the hall like a child. Trudging behind Slughorn up six flights of steps, Draco found himself in a corridor he did not often like to go down. Wendelin the Weird stared back at him from her pyre, giggling and throwing her head back as she enjoyed yet another of her burnings, and the skeleton near her tipped his hat to Draco as he passed by. Shuddering, Draco hurried past them and into Slughorn's too extravagant office.

Drack watched as Slughorn sank down into a large chair by the fire he kept burning and made a gesture for him to sit as well. Making his way to one of the couches nearby, Draco cautiously sat on the edge of the plush cushions and waited for Slughorn to speak. Infuriatingly, the man instead summoned a tea set and began to pour some for them both. Draco's temper was at its own boiling point when Slughorn finally opened his mouth.

"How would you like to have my job, Mr. Malfoy?"

Dumbfounded, Draco could only stare at him.

"Your what?"

"My job. You'd make a smashing good Potions Master."

"What?" Draco couldn't help the incredulous laugh that left him. "What does this have to do with Gregory?"

"Ah, yes, I suppose I should start there. Your friend Mr. Goyle is rubbish at potions. I know it, and I know you do too." Slughorn held up a hand as a protest rose to Draco's lips and carried on more quickly. "You've been carrying his weight since he was eleven, and it's done him no favours. However, he is lucky to have someone as adept at potion making as you, Mr. Malfoy. I know that you tutored him on the Laughing Potion, and I will have you know that it is the best potion he's brewed for my course since I returned two years ago. His technique was nearly flawless, and more than once I saw him mouthing instructions to himself that weren't in the book. That bit with the Alihotsy leaves? I've only ever seen that done by two other students in my career – Severus Snape and you."

"Severus was a great teacher, and a better godfather. He taught me everything I know about potion making."

"It's true, Severus Snape was one of my best students. A shame that I could never get him under my wing, always too busy sulking after James Potter-"

"Professor," Draco interrupted through gritted teeth, temper flaring once more, "I would appreciate it if any discussion of Severus were done in a positive manner. I was very close to him, and his passing has been rather difficult for me."

"Yes, of course, sorry m'boy!" Slughorn had the decency to look embarrassed and took a sip of his tea. "You understand my meaning, though? You improved Mr. Goyle's potion making, a task I have failed time and time again, within just one session, and don't think I've missed the jump in Mr. Potter's skills as well. He was rather good in his Sixth year, as I'm sure you remember, but it seems he's let the slack go too far since then. I could give him a break, with all that happened, but your skills have stayed sharp. I would go as far as to say that you're evenly matched with Miss Granger, if not more skilled."

"Forgive me, Professor, but what does any of this have to do with taking your job? Those are isolated incidents."

"Even so, I'm certain that if I set you up in front of a class of First years with a potion in mind that you could have them proficient in just a day. I don't know what your tactics are, but you have turned my most impossible case into a rather good student, Mr. Malfoy. It's no secret that I am… advancing in years, though I'd say I'm still spritely enough to live a full life, but-" Slughorn paused and ran a hand across his chin. "Well, where was I? Right, of course, I'm not getting any younger, Mr. Malfoy. The position calls for new blood, and I can think of no other man better suited to this task."

"Professor, I must stop you there. Even if I were inclined to teach, the parents would never stand for it. A man with my past? I wouldn't make it past the first round of interviewing before the Prophet tore me apart."

"With the proper support, you would do just fine! I've already spoken to Headmistress McGonagall about this, and she agrees with me. I've shown her your scores from the OWLs and informed her that you are on track to acing your NEWTs as well. Not to mention, the healer curriculum you're in now is almost exactly the same as the professor's. You could continue taking those extra courses, if they're something you enjoy, and shadow me in your free block, hmm? Now, you don't have to make up your mind now. Take your time to think about it, and have an answer for me before you leave for the Christmas Holidays."

Slughorn stood from his chair and escorted Draco promptly toward the door, scooting him out without stopping to listen to his protests.

"But Professor-!"

"Before the holidays, Mr. Malfoy! But I should warn you, I won't take 'no' until you've put some real thought into it!"

With that, Slughorn shut the door in his face. Draco blew a great, frustrated sigh through his nose and stomped down the corridor. He dared not look Wendelin the Weird in the eye, trying to control his temper as she snickered at his retreating back. This day could not possibly get worse. It had been at least five hours since breakfast, and Draco had not even had a quiet moment long enough to think about the letters, let alone open them. He was reaching down to do just that when his body collided with another.

"Merlin-" Draco muttered, the letter from his mother falling from his hands.

"I'm sorry!" A familiar voice cried, and as Draco looked up, his face fell into a scowl.

Pansy Parkinson stood before him, leaning down to pick up the letter he had dropped. When she stood straight again, a look of apprehension crossed her features, and she held the letter out with a hand that trembled only slightly.

"Oh, Draco." She paused, worrying at her bottom lip as he pulled the letter from her grip. "It's good to see you."

Scoffing and rolling his eyes, Draco moved to walk around her. Unexpectedly, she followed him.

"Wait, Draco!" She called, but he did not slow his pace. He was forced to stop when she ran to stand in front of him. "I'm sorry. I wanted you to know that."

"A little late for apologies, Pansy,” Draco answered curtly, hate bubbling in his stomach. “The damage is done, and I see where you stand now."

"But you don't, and that's the problem! All I wanted was to sit down at your table at breakfast or something and talk all of this out. I'm not used to confronting a friend, you know that we've never had to do anything like that. It was Blaise's idea to get you separated from everyone, but then you went and did it for him, so I wasn't ready with what I wanted to say, and that arrogant loudmouth screwed it all up!"

Draco stuffed the letter back into his bag and dragged his hands down his face, the exhaustion of all of this weighing heavily on his shoulders. He could walk away now. Brush right by her and leave his old friend feeling as empty as he had the last two years. His feet willed him to move, but that soft, tired voice in his heart rooted them to the floor.

"What are you going on about?"

"You really hurt my feelings when you ignored me that day in potions, and then you never came to us. It was like we weren't even there, like we weren't even a thought in your mind. We used to be best friends, Draco, and now all of a sudden, we aren't. We aren't even friends anymore, and that's hard for me because other than Blaise and Theo, I don't have any. They're both daft, and don't know what I mean half the time, so it's like being friends with strangers most days. Blaise has gotten better, but Theo hasn't been the same. 

“He's going off on his own more than usual, I think there's something wrong with him, but Blaise won't buy it. I'm lost, and I'm alone, and seeing you with Perfect Potter and his Perfect Friends hurts, alright? It really hurts, because we were all supposed to come back and be there for each other, and that isn't how it turned out."

Draco felt a stab of guilt as tears began falling down her cheeks, completely blindsided by this perspective. His own hurt threatened to well up and spill over, but he took a breath and instead quelled the rage that bubbled below.

"Then why didn't you write me?" he asked, and the petulance poured out of him. "You didn't write while I was gone, you didn't write after the battle, and you didn't write this summer. Why?"

"Draco, love, I  _ tried _ . I wrote you letters all Seventh year, asking you how you were, what you knew, what you had to do. But you never wrote me back. So, after a while I stopped. Now I figure someone must have been intercepting them, whether that was the Order or the Dark Lord, I don't know. But I wrote to you weekly until the Holidays. After that, I just assumed that you didn't want to hear from me, but I kept holding out hope that when we all came back it'd be a sort of reset. We'd all be here, together again, and we would be okay."

"And then it looked like I made new friends and threw everyone away but Gregory,” Draco answered, understanding washing over him like a fresh ocean breeze.

"It was completely out of line for Blaise to say those things about Vinny. He was always jealous of how close he and Greg were to you, and he knew that it would hurt you to bring it up. Blaise is angry and lost too, but he never should have gone that far. I'm not here to apologize for Blaise, though. I'm here to apologize for me. Draco, I'm sorry that I didn't try harder, and I'm sorry that I gave up on you."

"And I'm sorry too,” Draco answered, suddenly tired of holding on so tightly to his resentment. “I let my anger and my bitterness cloud my judgement. I never should have left you behind like that. Can you forgive me?" 

Pansy gave a little nod, and, bottom lip trembling, Draco fought back tears of his own. But then they were both pressing forward and opening their arms, and Draco was sinking into the embrace of the one person he'd let hug him in his school years. Falling into Pansy's arms was like a breath of childhood – easy, guiltless, akin to flight. He held her tightly, and her grip on him was just as solid as they laughed through their tears. When they had finally let go, Draco brushed the tears off her face and gave her a smile. A weight lifted from his chest, he took her hands in his and gave them a gentle squeeze.

"Thank you, Draco, for hearing me out. Knowing that you thought I agreed with Blaise has been killing me. You don't have to include me in your Potter Party, but it would be nice if you could start making some time for me too, yeah?"

"Of course, Pansy,” he answered, words full of sincerity. “I'm sorry, again, and know that I'll do better from now on."

"I know that you will. Well, I'll leave you to...whatever it was you were doing. I was just on my way to talk to Slughorn about my progress in Potions. I'll see you later?"

"See you!" Draco called as she walked away.

The weight that had left him for that moment began slowly pressing back down on his chest as he remembered the letters stuffed into his bag. Shaking his head, Draco made his way back down the flights of stairs to the main level and ducked behind a pillar as he saw Weasley. He refused to be side-tracked again, and turned to take the long way back around to the common room. He didn't stop when someone called his name, but rather sped up to avoid them. Draco was tempted to scream and wail like a child as this person grabbed his shoulder and turned him around. Ginevra Weasley stood before him, her face as red as her roots, and gave him a great shove backwards.

"Where do you get off ignoring me, Malfoy? When someone's calling you, the decent thing to do is turn around and listen."

"What do you want from me?" Draco snapped, filled with ire at her sudden attack.

"Why did Harry break up with me?"

" _ What _ ?" Draco cried, his frustration finally bubbling over as he shouted. "Why are you asking me? I'm not Harry's keeper, and it wouldn't be my place to tell you his feelings even if I knew them! So there’s no point in following me around and pestering me about why your ickle boyfriend dumped you!"

The rage blinded him, and as Draco let loose, Ginevra took a step away from him. He could tell his face was red by the heat on his cheeks, and Draco blew out a frustrated breath as she hesitated.

"I just thought since you two were so close now… it's just that Ron's my brother, and I don't want to put him in that position-"

"Oh, but you're okay with doing that to me?” Draco laughed cruelly and straightened his bag on his shoulder. “I'm sorry, Ginevra, but you're either going to have to ask Harry yourself, or resolve to never know, because I have nothing to tell you. Now, if you don't mind, I'm really quite busy."

Draco shook her off and pressed on down the hall, the clock tower tolling one, two, three, four, five times before it fell silent once more. Where had the day gone? He'd meant to open these damned letters directly after breakfast, and Draco could not believe he had let himself become so distracted. He'd missed lunch entirely, had not even gotten the chance to study for his own exams, and if he weren't quick about it, Draco would miss dinner too. Practically dashing through the common room, Draco did not stop until the door to his dorm was firmly shut behind him. Sliding down the wood, he pulled out the letter from his mother first.

_ My love, _

_ Minny tells me you're well, and that she saw you and Gregory down in the kitchens the other night. I am immensely relieved to hear that you have recovered nicely, and that you and Gregory are still getting on. Because I can see my fears were silly, I feel comfortable sharing them with you now. I was worried about you two returning to Hogwarts this year. I was fearful that your peers would seek some retribution, that you would be run out of the castle, or worse. I don't know that I could continue living if something happened to you. I am so very happy to hear that you are safe, and that you've befriended Harry Potter. _

_ Please, continue to be cautious, but live your life unapologetically. That's the other reason I'm writing to you today. Because after all we've been through, all I want is for you to be happy and free. Know that you can confide in me, and that there is nothing about you that I won't love. You are my son, the most precious thing in my life, and I will support you unconditionally. _

_ All my love, _

_ Mother _

Draco couldn't help the tears that slid down his cheeks at this blessing. He didn't know how, but Mother knew about his feelings, and she loved him anyway. That alone gave him the strength he needed to open the next letter.

_ Malfoy- _

_ Be at the astronomy tower at 5 pm sharp. You won't see me, but I'll be there waiting for you. You will bring a good batch of bicorn horn and boomslang skin and deposit them on the steps without snooping around. Failure to comply with my instructions will result in great misfortune for you. I hope for your sake that you do not fail. _

_ I'll be watching. _

Hands shaking, Draco let the letter drop from his hands. Five had come and gone, and Draco had missed the deadline. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to my awesome Betas, Amber1015 and ShadowHeart175! You guys kept me sane.
> 
> The characters and universe in this work are property of J.K Rowling.

Dread washed over Draco as a harsh scraping sound came from his window. It persisted, and Draco's shaking hands were clammy as he crept toward it. Holding his breath, he reached out and drew back the curtains to find the amber eyes of one of the school owls staring back at him. Caution told him not to undo the latch, but his own morbid curiosity was louder, and Draco found his hands moving of their own volition. The owl ruffled its feathers once, dropped the letter through the open window, and was disappearing into the gathering darkness as Draco caught the paper in his hands. He tried to stifle their trembling and tore the envelope open, blood draining from his already pale face at the words glaring up at him.

_ You think you can just ignore me? You think you're safe hiding behind Potter? You've got another thing coming, Malfoy, and I will make you regret this mistake. You'll pay for this. Look behind you, around the corner, under your bed, but you won't find me. You won't see me coming, and by the time you realize I'm right behind you, it'll be too late. You'll wish you'd never ignored me. _

Draco's fingers felt cold, and the parchment fell from them to drift down to the stone floor. From there the angry words stared up at him, burning tiny holes into his brain. As if the threats weren't enough, Draco could tell from the messy lettering and splotches of ink that his blackmailer was becoming unhinged. In certain places, he could only barely make out the words behind the smeared ink. Draco shoved the letter out of sight, under his bed with the others, and twisted to collapse back against the side of his boxspring, head thumping back onto the mattress behind him. Although he tried his hardest to come up with his next move, Draco's mind was blank.

The joy he had felt at his mother's words were long gone, now replaced with fear, revulsion, hatred, and a million ideas of what he'd like to do to his blackmailer began surfacing. Defeat hung over his head like a heavy sword, and Draco knew that the string holding it back was dangerously thin. He was just so tired. Tired of fighting, of running, of constantly having to prove himself to people dead set on not giving him another chance. Draco's feet slipped on the steep precipice of surrender, and as he closed his eyes he let himself fall into it's dark, unknown folds.

...

When Draco opened his eyes the next time, following a particularly terrible nightmare, it was nearly three o'clock in the morning. Someone had moved him to his bed and removed his shoes, with his blanket pulled up around his shoulders. Winter had only grown colder and colder, so despite the layers surrounding him, Draco was still shivering. When thinking about who could have moved him, his train of thought immediately latched on to Gregory, and as Draco turned his head to search for his friend on his own bed, he found it empty. Draco frowned then and crawled out of his bed, wriggling out of his wrinkled uniform to pull on an old green sweater and a pair of his favourite grey muggle joggers. Significantly more comfortable, yet still chilly, Draco wrapped himself up in his duvet before descending the stairs to find Gregory.

A roaring fire breathed steadily before him in the common room, and Draco was equal parts delighted and surprised to find Gregory already on the couch with a book Draco had lent him in his lap. Gregory looked up as Draco's slippered feet trod down the steps, and a smile lit his features. He scooted over on the couch to make room for Draco, who gratefully took a seat next to him and hugged his knees to his chest, the blanket wrapped around his shoulders in order to neatly cocoon him.

"What are you doing up?" Gregory asked, closing what Draco now recognized to be his Poe anthology and looking over to him.

Draco gave a noncommittal shrug and turned his face toward the fire, finding comfort in the dancing flames.

"I couldn't sleep. I saw you weren't in your bed, so I decided I'd come down here and keep you company."

"I'm glad you did," Gregory said, and Draco's cheeks felt hot. "It was getting pretty lonely, and you make good company."

Draco's chest felt warmer at that, and he leaned over to rest against his friend.

"How kind of you to say."

They sat in that comfortable silence for a moment, both watching the fire as it danced low to its embers.

"It's nice down here," Gregory commented after a while. "Much warmer than the dorm."

"Really?" Draco asked, a shiver racing through his body and forcing him deeper into his blanket. "I'm freezing."

Gregory frowned at him and pulled back a bit in order to wrap his blanket around Draco's shoulders before he returned to his spot against the arm of the couch.

"Is that better?" he asked, and Draco shrank a bit under his stare.

"Yeah, a little. What's keeping you up tonight?"

"Just couldn't sleep." Draco got the feeling Gregory was evading his question, and this theory was confirmed as he deflected the conversation back onto him. "What about you? Why are you still awake?"

Draco shrugged and watched as Gregory stretched out and put his arm on the back of the couch. It was hovering just above his shoulders, and Draco could feel his stomach dissolving at the thought of how easy it would be for it to touch him. It was these innocent thoughts that set Draco's heart racing. The mere thought of touching Gregory's arm sent electricity down his spine and made him shudder.

"I've had nightmares since the war," Draco answered simply. "Some nights are just worse than others."

"I get them too sometimes, but never for long. I always wake up before they get too bad," Gregory's voice was quiet, and Draco could tell he was not being entirely truthful. Before he could ask him to elaborate, Gregory was changing the subject yet again. "Are you really that cold?"

Draco snorted as Gregory lifted a hand to press the back of it to Draco's forehead, but his amusement turned to surprise when it touched his skin. The heat coming off his skin was almost too much for Draco to bear. He hid this and nodded instead, casting his eyes away from Gregory as a cold shame flooded over him.

"I'm not sick or anything. It's a side effect of the Cruciatus Curse. I'm always cold. I guess it escalates when the temperature gets this low," Draco explained, giving him a little shrug. "I'd noticed it a bit in November, but since December began it's gotten much worse."

Draco's eyes followed Gregory as he stood up and added a few logs to the fire, building it up and stirring the flames with the poker. A surge of warmth that had nothing to do with the fire passed through Draco's chest and stirred in his stomach as he watched Gregory dust off his hands and come back to sit on the couch once more.

"We'll just have to keep you warm, then, won't we?" he teased, and nudged Draco's arm with his own.

"Thank you," Draco replied with a little smile, eyes widening as if remembering something important. "Oh! I meant to tell you at dinner, but my afternoon was so crazy that I couldn't make it. Madam Pomfrey said that starting next week we'll be sitting in on your Apparition class. She said you all have got so many splinchers that she can hardly keep up, but that we're all competent enough by now to give her a few extra hands."

"It's about time. That one Ravenclaw girl almost bled out the other day. It was pretty touch and go. I'm lucky I only ever get small ones."

"Do you still get nauseous?" Draco asked, his eyes falling to the scrapes on Gregory's hands and arms, all in various stages of healing.

"Not so much anymore. Not really since the first week, even. I don't even get splinched all that often either. I've gotten pretty good since we started."

"I'm glad to know that. I'll keep an eye out for you all the same," Draco answered and sank down further into the couch, the beginnings of sleep weighing too heavily on his shoulders to sit up straight.

"I would throw a fit if Madam Pomfrey let anyone else take care of me," Gregory asserted, looking rather serious.

Draco found himself laughing, but it soon turned into a yawn and he let his head fall back to rest against the arm of the couch.

"It'd be your funeral. She can be a scary woman."

"I'm not too worried about it," Gregory said with an easy grin. "I can't think of anyone else who would want to help me anyways."

"I don't know – but they'd probably do it wrong; I can tell you that," Draco answered and gave another shiver. He couldn't help but remember how warm Gregory's hand had been and wondered if the rest of his body felt the same.

"Are you still cold?" The surprise was written in Gregory's voice.

"I almost want to throw myself into the fire," Draco admitted, bringing his hands up to his cheeks. He was shocked by just how cold they are. Casting a mischievous glance at the boy next to him, he lunged across the couch and pressed them to his cheeks instead. "See? They're frozen!"

"Merlin's beard, Draco!" Gregory admonished as he flinched in surprise, reaching up and taking Draco's hands into his own. "How are your hands that cold?"

"How are yours so warm?" Draco marvelled at the heat radiating from them. His memory had not done them justice.

"I don't know, I've always run a little hot," he teased, earning a swat from Draco. Reaching a hand out to cup his cheek, Gregory laughed a bit. "You, on the other hand, are practically a Dementor."

Draco laughed with him, leaning into his hand.

"Let's just hope that some poor bloke doesn't die if I kiss him."

"Cold skin is one thing, but that would be truly unfortunate," Gregory said and took his hand away from Draco's face to rest his arm along the back of the couch again. "Better find some sap to test it out on before you find someone you really like. Just in case you do accidentally kill someone."

Draco flopped back against the couch, half leaning against Gregory.

"I'd have to really hate them, too. Which may take a while, considering everyone I hate is either dead or in Azkaban."

"Just wait until Weasley does something really stupid and lay one on him. See what happens then," he teased, letting his arm fall to rest around Draco's shoulders.

"I don't think even Hermione could stop him from killing me if I did that," Draco snorted.

"Or maybe he just dies? High risk, high reward," Gregory teased, tapping his forehead.

"I don't think I could kill someone in good conscience," Draco answered thoughtfully and settled in against his side.

"Well, the way I see it, you have two options. Risk killing the love of your life, or find someone who's going to be alright with never kissing you."

"Shouldn't be too hard, I don't think. I'm sure people who would be alright with never kissing me make up a majority of the world."

Gregory gave a laugh at that, and Draco felt a surge of pleasure at the sound. After the day he'd had, all of this just felt right. The world was slowly clicking into place, and Draco could pretend that no one was angry with him; that no one was sending him threatening letters; that Slughorn wasn't trying to force him into changing his entire life plan-

Slughorn! Draco thought. If anyone could help me with that choice, it'd be Gregory.

"Hey, Gregory?" Draco started nervously, his fingers picking at the frayed cuffs of his sweater. "Can I talk to you about something sort of important?"

"Yeah, of course, Draco. What's going on?" Gregory asked, concern stamping out the mirth that had been in his voice just a moment before.

"I ran into Slughorn today, and he offered me his job."

Gregory was quiet for a long moment before he found Draco's eyes, the confusion there plain.

"Alright. Isn't that a good thing?" he asked slowly, and Draco shrugged.

"I don't know, that's why I want to talk to you about it, I guess. It's just, I went into this year with a plan of action and a goal to work toward. I wanted to become a healer, and I'm doing well in all of my classes, so it feels right."

"So then what's the problem?" Gregory prodded. "Just tell Slughorn thank you, but you're not interested."

"I tried to! But he thinks I've got something special I can't see just because I helped you and Harry with that potion. He told me he won't take no for an answer, and while I know he can't make me switch tracks, I don't want him to be a pain in my arse about it either."

"I understand. Let's look at it this way – why do you want to be a healer?" Gregory asked.

"Easy," Draco answered, "I want to help people instead of hurt them. I've caused so much pain, and now I want to fix it."

"Well, if you think about it, you could do that here too, couldn't you?"

"How do you mean?" Draco asked, his nose wrinkling at the thought of spending more of his life in the castle.

"There's a new generation of students coming, isn't there? They'll need strong professors, ones with commitment to doing good. You could help them by teaching them. Ultimately, the decision is yours, but I don't think it could hurt to see if Slughorn's onto something here. Does he have any sort of plan for you?"

"Yeah, he wants me to shadow his class during my free period after Christmas, and I assume I'll end up teaching it. I suppose... yes, I suppose I could try it. He said I wouldn't have to cancel my other classes. I could do both, really…"

"Then what's the harm?" Gregory asked, and gave his shoulder a squeeze. "If you don't like shadowing, you could always take it back."

"But there's the other problem," Draco answered, worrying at his cuticles. "What if I do like it?"

"I… don't follow, Draco. What do you mean?"

"Exactly that. What if I do like it? What if I like it so much that I want to teach after all? There's no way the parents will let me. An ex-Death Eater? You'd be off your rocker to think they would."

"I wouldn't be too sure, Draco. You forget that you're a Potter-Pardoned ex-Death Eater. Besides, look at me. I did some really terrible things last year, and they still let me into the Auror programme. Of course, they're keeping a close eye on me, and I likely won't be allowed on solo missions as long as I have a career, but they're taking a chance on me. The world is changing, Draco. There will be people who speak out against it, you'd be a fool to think there wouldn't be, but there will be others behind you. You can do anything you want now. Healer, professor, sweet shop owner; it doesn't matter! You can be anything you want to be."

Looking into Gregory's eyes, Draco was overwhelmed with the urge to lean forward and close the short distance between their lips, but instead he settled for staring at Gregory with a sense of wonder. Feeling more hopeful than he had all day, he began nodding until it made sense to him. "No, you're right, of course you are," Draco answered and tucked himself back under Gregory's arm. "I think I will give it a try. Even if I don't like it, at least I'll have done it, right?"

Draco and Gregory stayed like that until the grey light of dawn began creeping in through the windows, talking through their futures with fluttering excitement, and taking turns reading excerpts from the book in Gregory's lap. Draco loved hearing Gregory read, he had a steady cadence and an even tone that lent life to the old, dry words that decorated the page. "Annabel Lee" was Draco's favourite, a poem that had resonated within his soul from the moment he'd read it. The way Gregory read his favourite line, "we loved with a love that was more than love", set off lightning in Draco's stomach and left him feeling thunderstruck until Gregory nudged him and passed off the book for Draco to take a turn reading. At some point, Gregory had taken Draco's hand in his own, but neither seemed to notice that he hadn't let go until the first of their peers began their morning routines. Draco was the first to slip away, leaving Gregory with his blanket and his book and floating back to their dorm on the remnants of the dream he held of a future where he was happy, and Gregory was beside him.

…

The day flew by quickly for Draco, something that he found came easily with the strange sense of euphoria he was feeling. With homework getting harder as Christmas drew nearer, he found that the spare time he had to devote to Gregory was depleting more and more quickly. However, as they had begun having Apparition and Healing within the same blocks, there was a guaranteed ninety minutes of time he had to spend with Gregory every day. They were in the middle of this slot as Draco stared anxiously at the hoop on the ground in front of him, shifting from one foot to another as he waited for Gregory to appear there. When he did, it was with a sharp crack that made Draco jump, and he quickly scanned the taller boy for any evidence of splinching.

"How do you feel? Nauseous? Are you bleeding anywhere?" Draco asked, stepping forward to grab his shoulders and search Gregory's back.

"Stop, Draco, I'm fine!"

Gregory only laughed and tried to shake him off, the two engaging in a familiar dance as Draco fussed over him. It was an amusing sight for those closest to the pair, and by the time Draco was typically satisfied with his examination, Gregory's face was often quite red. This time, however, Draco brushed off his shoulders and took a step back without too much of a fight, and nodded for Gregory's instructor to step into the hoop for side-along Apparition.

While he waited for Gregory's return, Draco allowed his mind to wander back to the first day the healers had come to Apparition. Professor Twycross had stood in the front of the Great Hall, transformed to accommodate so many students, and gestured to a line of his students, Madam Pomfrey's healers standing across from them. As Professor Twycross prattled on about the instructions, Draco's eyes found Gregory. It hurt him to see how far away his classmates stood from him, but Draco supposed that being ignored was better than negative attention in Gregory's books.

Draco's attention was snapped back to Twycross as he announced that he'd be pairing them off, and his stomach sank with dread. There was no way these people would trust him with their lives. Even if the party had gone well, they still stared and whispered when they thought he couldn't see or hear them. Then, there was the matter of Gregory. No healer he was paired with would want to take care of him. Draco's worst fear was realized when Professor Twycross began reading the names.

"Michael Corner, with Gregory Goyle."

Draco didn't miss the flush of anger that crossed Corner's face, nor did he miss the mutinous look that he turned toward the small man at the podium.

"No. No way am I working with him."

"Pardon?" Twycross asked, already in the process of announcing another pair.

"I won't do it, Professor. I won't work with Goyle."

Draco's heart sank, and for a moment he feared Twycross would insist.

"Well, young man, unless someone else is willing to volunteer-"

"I do!" Draco called before the words had even fully left Twycross's mouth. "I volunteer to be Gregory's partner."

Ignoring the sniggering the flared up around them, Draco moved to stand next to Gregory, and as Twycross announced Corner's new partner to be Daphne Greengrass, he felt Gregory's fingers reach out and lace themselves with his own.

That had been a week ago, and ever since then Draco watched with unease as Gregory popped in and out of existence. The first two days, Draco had to apply Dittany to tiny splinches that Gregory blamed on being distracted, but after that third day, Gregory had stopped reporting even nausea. Even though Draco knew what was coming when Gregory returned, he still had a hard time preparing himself for it. As if his thoughts were a summoning spell, another sharp crack announced Gregory's return. After a compulsory check over both Gregory and his instructor, Draco stepped nervously into the hoop and gripped Gregory's arm.

"Relax, I've got you," Gregory murmured, but Draco only shut his eyes tightly and prepared himself for the suffocating sensation that would come at any moment.

Draco hated Apparition. He was immensely claustrophobic, and the sensation of his atoms being squeezed so tightly left him feeling sick to his stomach, the fear giving him migraines. He much preferred Floo travel, or flying a broom, but taking the healer was a part of Gregory's curriculum, and so Draco tried his hardest to grin and bear it whenever Gregory needed him to. The tight, constricting feeling came with no warning, and when they landed, Draco was gasping for breath.

He got to work quickly, scanning over Gregory once more before seeming to realize something was wrong.

"This isn't Hogsmeade," Draco said softly, glancing around the clearing they had landed in.

"No, it isn't," Gregory agreed, and reached around Draco to pluck a wildflower off the bush behind him.

Coming back, Gregory reached out and touched Draco's hair before tucking the flower safely behind his ear. The smile Gregory gave him said a lot, and Draco felt his words catch in his throat.

"Thank you for being here with me," Gregory said softly, but broke the moment as he glanced at his watch. "We should get back, yeah?"

Draco needed no further prompting, and he gripped onto Gregory's arm once more.

That night, when he was sure no one was looking, Draco pressed the flower into his mother's photo album. Looking down at the tiny blue Cornflower blossom, he found that nothing else mattered. Not the letters, not the whispers, not even the paranoia of being followed. The only thing that mattered in that moment was how Draco felt about Gregory, and the fear that came with caring for someone so deeply.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to my awesome Betas, Amber1015 and ShadowHeart175! You guys rock.
> 
> The characters and universe in this work are property of J.K Rowling.

Only days after his last encounter with Gregory, Draco was trying immensely hard to push down the madness in his life in favour of his schoolwork. Homework was getting heavier, classes were becoming more and more difficult, and every waking moment that Draco wasn't in the classroom, he was studying. Before, he could coast through life riding on his father's coattails if school ended up not working out, but now that his reality had crashed down around him, Draco was feeling the pressure more than ever. He was a good student, he knew that, but the fear of failure with his entire future on the line was daunting. It wouldn't do to simply be good. Now Draco had to be excellent – the best, even. It was driving him closer and closer to the point of hair-gripping insanity, but Draco hid his racked nerves well under a mask of composure. Still, he was both relieved and annoyed to find that they were going to be reviewing the Cure for Boils as he walked into Potions that day.

Time flew quickly, Draco's practiced hands knowing where his ingredients were in his neat kit. He could brew this potion in his sleep, having learned it from Severus before attending Hogwarts, and though he no longer had to look at the potion's book for the recipe, habit had him glancing at the words for a mere moment before he went back to the task at hand. However, something unprecedented happened in that Potions lesson, something that had never happened to Draco before.

When Draco had finished brewing his Cure for Boils, he was quite surprised to find that, rather than letting off a light pink vapor, the potion was instead bubbling violently and sending off acrid black smoke in waves. He was even more surprised when his cauldron began melting, and the potion spilled onto his lap and arms. Though he tried not to panic, Harry and Neville were already shouting and scrambling away from him, and as large painful boils erupted across his skin, Draco could not stop the scream that tore from his throat. The boils spread aggressively across the skin the potion had touched and it was soon seeping into his clothes to reach the skin hidden there too. The rest of his peers erupted into chaos, some screaming, others rushing foolhardily to clean him off.

"Stop!" Harry was shouting, pushing them away. "If you touch the potion, you'll make it worse!"

"Out of the way, out of the way!"

That was Slughorn. Draco knew he should be getting up, or at least trying to push some of the potion off his lap, but shock kept him rigidly in his seat. The next thing he knew, he was doused from head to toe in blue potion, and his boils began receding almost immediately. The pain did not fade nearly as quickly, and even after the angry pustules had disappeared, Draco was shaking. Slughorn was standing over him, breathing heavily and looking as though he would drop to the floor with exhaustion at any moment.

"Mr. Potter, do you think you could escort Mr. Malfoy to the Hospital Wing?" Slughorn asked through his panting.

Harry nodded wordlessly and scooped up his bag as well as Draco's. Wrapping his arm under Draco's to help support him, Harry only had a little trouble getting Draco to his feet and out the door. Draco leaned heavily against him all the way there, thanking whoever was looking out for him that there weren't many eyes in the halls to bear witness to his weakness. Knees still shaking, Madam Pomfrey whisked him away from Harry the moment he crossed the threshold and forced a Calming Draught into his hands. He tipped it back without complaint, and even as the cool liquid fell down his throat, Draco's shaking began to slow down and his arms fell still at his side. Only a moment later, Draco found himself capable of focusing on the worried faces of both Madam Pomfrey and Harry. The former was off again in a flash, mentioning something about new clothes for him, and as she disappeared, Draco turned his eyes back up to Harry.

"What happened back there?" Harry asked, and Draco loathed the fact that he had no answer. "You're excellent at Potions. I've never seen you mess anything up, let alone that badly."

"I don't know. The only thing I can think of that would cause that sort of reaction is Bulbadox powder. It completely spoils the potion, and makes it erupt like that. But we don't carry that in the standard kit, there's no potion we brew that calls for it. Come to think of it, I can't recall a potion that does. It's mostly used for-"

"For?"

"Nothing," Draco answered with a shrug. "Nothing I can think of."

The lie rolled off his tongue more easily than breathing, though Draco knew exactly what Bulbadox powder was for. Pranks, mostly, but Draco had the rising suspicion that this was no mere prank. If Slughorn hadn't doused him in the Cure for Boils when he did, Draco could have been permanently scarred, or, more terribly, killed by a further reaction. He forced himself to think hard throughout the remainder of the day, and even late into the night. Who had gotten hold of his cauldron long enough to coat it in Bulbadox powder? Or else, who had slipped it in when he wasn't looking? As much as he longed to narrow it down to those in Slughorn's class, Draco had to admit he had not been careful with his possessions. He left his cauldron on the shelf in the back of the Potions room where any student in Slughorn's classes would have had access to it. It didn't have his name on it, but anyone who knew Draco well enough would know it was his. Anyone who had made it their business to make his life miserable would certainly know. Draco was more lost in this mystery than ever, and for the first time, fear was truly beginning to sink into his heart.

...

Draco, though physically fine, was still shaken by these thoughts well into the next afternoon. He jumped at every unexpected noise, and constantly looked over his shoulder when walking down the corridor, occurrences that did not escape the attention of his friends. Harry was the first to suggest they play some Quidditch after lunch, an idea Draco adamantly refused.

"Well, why not?" Hermione had asked, tossing a covert look at Harry and Weasley.

"Because Gregory and I have studying to do," Draco had answered coolly, making it clear that this would not be a discussion.

"We can study later, Draco, it's not like my textbooks are going to grow legs and wander off."

Draco threw him a mutinous glare, but his further excuses fell on deaf ears, and Draco was soon being escorted down to the empty Quidditch pitch with his broom and his army of idiots. Draco didn't have time to play games, he had to get to the bottom of this mess. Then there was the topic of exams, which, blackmailer or no, he truly did need to study for. Didn't they see there were more important things to be doing than playing a game just for the purpose of playing it? There was something childish about the notion that made Draco's stomach twist, but he mounted his broom and pushed off the ground like the good sport he was not known to be.

As Weasley knocked the quaffle from his hands for the third time in a row, the strangest thing was that it was actually beginning to work. He could see Harry's reasoning behind this kidnapping as a laugh bubbled from his lips and he soared higher into the air. Swooping over his friends, the wind blowing through his hair and rustling his sweater, Draco understood it all. He had been far too moody and paranoid lately; perhaps the cauldron was simply old? Or perhaps he did brew the potion wrong. He was not so arrogant as Harry, to think his skills were infallible, and it was every bit possible that he had simply messed up a step. Up there in the air, hundreds of meters off the ground, Draco found the world coming into a clearer focus.

Hermione was laughing despite her awkward seating (she had never flown well) and trying to keep the quaffle from Weasley, who was flying rings around her. Draco saw Harry watching from the side, waving his arms and calling for her to pass the ball to him while Gregory seemed content to sit on his broom and wait for them. Draco was leaning down to rejoin them when his broom gave a jerk. A gasp falling from his lips, he gripped the broomstick more firmly and tried once more to steer it downwards when it gave another, more vigorous, jerk that nearly threw him from his seat.

If Draco had not been the skilled flyer that he was, he would have gone tumbling to the ground below as his broom began bucking and shaking beneath him. His cry of alarm alerted his friends below, but before any one of them could assist him, his broom gave one last mighty jolt and wrenched itself from his grasp, sending him falling, falling, falling through the cloudless sky. Draco could not see the ground he was hurtling toward as he was falling backwards, his face toward the sun and his arms and legs kept outstretched uselessly before him by the air ripping by him. He tried twisting back to grab his wand from his back pocket, but as the wind tore past his hands, it became an impossible task.

Draco could only just hear Hermione screaming over the wind whistling in his ears, but as he plummeted past his friends, Draco's panic evaporated in the wake of something softer, although it scared him no less. He was going to die, Draco had accepted that, but he hated to go like this. Something so terrible shouldn't be viewed by his friends, but he knew he could do nothing to shield their gaze. He was just beginning to make peace with that as well when he slammed into the ground far sooner than he expected. It was softer than he thought it'd be, and more-

_ Wait _ , he thought.  _ Why aren't I dead?...Is this what death looks like? _

That was when the ground let out a low moan of pain, and Draco turned his head to find himself not splattered against the grass, but hovering twenty feet above it in the steady arms of Harry Potter. They were still descending, Harry slowly lowering them more and more until they collapsed on the ground, Draco still neatly collected in Harry's arms. Shock kept them both frozen there in that moment, Harry's hands holding onto him so tightly it hurt, and as the rest of Draco's friends landed and ran over to them, their panicked voices loud and overwhelming, Draco felt the tears shock had previously held back begin to spill from his eyes. They fell faster and faster until he was sobbing with reckless abandon, Harry pulling him into his chest and Draco holding onto him just as tightly.

"What were you thinking?" Harry demanded over and over, and Draco thought he might have been crying too.

Later, when they were all back in the common room in front of the fire, Draco tried to explain to them what had happened.

"It was like I had no control of my broomstick," Draco said, leaning lightly against Gregory on the couch.

Harry was sitting on his other side, Hermione and Weasley in the chairs beside the couch, and all of them were listening closely and slowly nodding along.

"I was coming down to rejoin you, but it was almost like my broom had a mind of its own. It began bucking and pulling, and I couldn't hold on anymore. I tried to reach for my wand, but I was falling so fast that I couldn't move my arms properly. Thank you," he said, for what was likely the thousandth time, as he turned to Harry. "Really, truly, thank you. You saved my life."

"Yeah, no problem," Harry answered, as he had every time before that, with red cheeks and a small smile.

"That has me thinking," began Hermione as she tucked her bushy hair behind an ear. "Remember, first year? When Quirrell was jinxing Harry's broomstick? It looked really similar to me."

"I remember that, but I thought you were just a poor flier. That was Professor Quirrell?" Draco asked, raising his eyebrows at the thought of just how much had happened that he had no idea of.

"But there was no one else around, 'Mione," Weasley answered, ignoring Draco's question. "It was just the five of us, and none of us jinxed him. Are you sure you didn't just fall off your broom, mate?"

Draco tried not to bristle at the question, and the dangerous look Hermione threw at Weasley appeased some of his ire.

"I'm quite certain I 'didn't just fall off my broom'. I've been riding a broomstick since I could walk. It wasn't just my father's money that got me on the Slytherin team, you know," Draco said lightly, a hint of a joke in his tone. "The Seeker's position was absolutely my father's money, but I would have been an excellent Chaser."

"We know you're a good flyer, Draco, Ron was just saying what had to be said to move past it, right?" Harry tossed out the line, and Weasley snatched it up with grace.

"Right, yeah. Just wanted to be sure we covered all of our bases. Now that we have, what do we have left to go on?"

"Well, we don't remember there being anyone else there, and Draco didn't fall off because he's a bad flyer, but what about the wind?" Hermione offered. "It was blowing hard up there, right?"

"I mean, I suppose?" Draco answered with a small shrug. "It's possible they were just strong gusts of wind."

Even after another hour of speculation, during which Gregory offered little in the way of words, but much in the way of holding Draco's hand, they could not come up with a better explanation. Draco had fallen because of the wind, that must have been it. There wasn't anyone else there, after all, and as much as he could see Weasley pulling that sort of stunt in September, Draco liked to think that they had at least progressed past the point of sheer hatred. Draco was forced to go to bed that night with no better explanation than that, regardless of the eerie feeling that settled in the pit of his stomach.

…

When Draco woke for breakfast the next morning, he was quite surprised, and a bit put out, to find that the dormitory was empty. Gregory typically waited for him before going down to the Great Hall, but Draco cast his injured feelings to the side with an attempt at gruff indifference and dressed quickly, stuffing his feet into his shoes and slinging his bag over his shoulder before tromping down the stairs into the common room. There he found his roommates, along with Hermione, all with their heads bent close together and whispering furiously to each other.

"Are you sure, Harry?" Gregory asked gruffly, a deep frown creasing his face. "Did you all just leave it somewhere and forgot where it was?"

What was Gregory doing in the middle of this? Harry and his friends whispered together all the time, Draco was used to that, but when was Gregory included in their secrets? To that matter, why was Gregory keeping secrets from him in the first place? Draco opted to linger in that space between hearing and not, trying to catch another snip of their conversation without being discovered.

"It's gone, I'm sure. I've had the damn thing for seven years, I know better than to just leave it lying around. Someone must have nicked it."

"But who, Harry?" Came Hermione's voice of reason. "No one in the castle but us knows you have one. At least, not someone who would go so low as to steal it from you. Maybe Gregory's right? Where was the last place you remember having it?"

Draco stiffened as Weasley's eyes fell on him and launched himself forward, pretending as though he hadn't been listening at the stairwell while Weasley coughed rather obviously. The group broke apart guiltily, tossing Draco unsure smiles and fidgeting too much with their clothing.

"Well, good morning, you lot. Thought you'd all left me behind for a moment," Draco sniffed indignantly on his way to the door. He paused there, hand on the door knob, and turned back to them. "Aren't any of you hungry? Let's go already."

Whatever those four thought they were hiding from him, Draco would get to the bottom of it.

…

As Draco strode into Herbology that afternoon, his last class of the day, his spirits were bolstered after a day with no further incidents. The new cauldron his mother sent him didn't explode, his friends were behaving quite normally at lunch, and Professor Sprout had put up some coverings over the glass roof above the tables to filter out most of the light fighting to shine through. Pots of Flitterbloom the size of Draco's head stood at the stations before them, and Draco gravitated to his usual spot beside Harry to listen as Professor Sprout gave them instructions. They would only be trimming the dead leaves from their Flitterbloom plants, and after her reminder to be gentle with them, she began wandering from student to student to watch their progress.

As Draco leaned over his Flitterbloom plant, his shadow concealed it completely. Reaching down with his sheers to begin pruning, Draco was surprised to find the tendrils of the green plant circling his fingers. He reached down to stroke the tentacle-like leaves, but found that when he tried to pull away, the plant didn't release him. Pulling at it with his free hand, Draco realized that the long tendrils had taken hold of his wrist, wrapping more and more tightly around the appendage until he was sure it would pop off. It had wound its way around Draco's other hand before he had realized it, and as he struggled to free himself, the plant wrapped itself more quickly around his arms until Draco was elbow deep into the plant.

"Merlin!" Draco cried, thrashing uselessly at the plant that was steadily dragging his head closer and closer to its body.

"Professor!" Harry shouted as he looked over toward Draco.

Longbottom looked up from his station in surprise, his wand out only moments after he'd spotted the danger. He was pointing it at Draco, who almost ducked, and shouting " _ Lumos solem! _ " A blinding light came from the tip of his wand and drove away the invading scourge. Draco stumbled back from the pot as soon as the plant had released him, large red welts forming on his arms from where he had been restrained. Why was this happening to him? Who would do something like that? He didn't have to be a Herbologist to know that that was not Flitterbloom, but something far more sinister.

It really wasn't fair. When things like this happen, one is supposed to be able to ask "Why me? What did I ever do to deserve this? Who could do something like this to me?", but Draco couldn't ask this, not with a clear conscience. He knew what he'd done to deserve this, and worse, and practically every person in the castle had a reason to take their anger out on him in such a way. The thought brought frustrated tears to his eyes, and Draco was only barely conscious of Professor Sprout asking him if he were okay. At the shake of a head, she allowed him to gather up his bag and flee the greenhouse with what little was left of his dignity. When he was sure he was out of sight, Draco ran until his lungs burned and his legs ached, and even beyond then, until he reached the doors of the castle and headed toward Madam Pomfrey once more.

When Harry came to visit him after class, Draco had had another Calming Draught, and was feeling much better. He listened with resignation as Harry told him that someone had swapped his Flitterbloom for Devil's Snare and kicked himself for not realizing it sooner. Broderick Bode had been murdered the exact same way when Draco was fifteen, and he could remember in great detail how his father described the plan to his mother when he thought Draco wasn't listening at the door. That had been the day after Christmas, and Draco had done nothing to help that man. He hadn't alerted anyone to the danger waiting for him, because Draco didn't care. Who was Broderick Bode to him? What did it matter if he died a slow, painful death so long as it kept Draco's life progressing normally? He had been a fool and a coward, and now he was suffering for it.

He and Harry sat in silence for a few moments before Harry gave his shoulder an awkward pat and left him to his silence. Madam Pomfrey kept him longer after Harry had left.

"Mr. Malfoy, I'm growing worried about you." Her concerned voice rang in Draco's ears for long after he had left the Hospital Wing.

"Madam Pomfrey, let me assure you that I'm fine. I've just run into a series of unfortunate events these last two days."

"It's not just that," she answered sternly. "You were top of my class, and now your work is slipping. The only place you excel anymore is when we're in the field with Apparition. You're pale, and you look like you haven't been eating or sleeping properly."

"Madam Pomfrey, please-"

"I'm not quite done, Mr. Malfoy. You don't have to tell me what's going on, I can tell you're going to lie to me if I push you any further. However, I would like you to report to me every morning after breakfast. I will alert your first professor of the day that you will be late. You're putting too much stress on your body and your mind, and I want you to begin taking half a Calming Draught every day. There will be no room for argument, young man."

Draco nodded slowly, processing her request and eventually turning his eyes toward the ground.

"I'm sorry for being so much trouble, Madam Pomfrey. I think I've been in here more than any other student this semester."

"Almost, Mr. Malfoy, but not quite," she answered as her tight, thin-lipped smile returned to her face. "Though it may not always feel like it, there are people here who care for you. We are behind you, and we want nothing more than for you to succeed, Mr. Malfoy. So, if something is bothering you, please, I hope you feel like you can tell me about it."

Draco tried to give her a smile in return, and only just managed it.

"Right, then, be on your way. You're just in time for dinner. Make sure you aren't late tomorrow morning, Mr. Malfoy!" She called after him as Draco hopped off the bed and made his way quickly toward the door.

Heading up to bed earlier than usual that night, Draco tossed and turned in his bed as he attempted to narrow down the list of people that could be behind these strange coincidences until sleep carried him off to fretful dreams. 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to my amazing betas, Amber1015 and ShadowHeart175!
> 
> The characters and universe in this work are property of J.K Rowling.

When Draco opened his eyes the next morning, he was filled with a bleak resignation. He had dressed himself for the day before his friends could wake, slipping out of their dormitory to meet Madam Pomfrey in the Hospital Wing. Meeting Draco at the door, Madam Pomfrey gave him a short smile and directed him to have a seat before whisking away. Draco, hands fidgeting, sat on the edge of a bed as he waited for Madam Pomfrey to return with his draught and kicked his feet against the floor as he gazed ahead with a blank stare. She handed the phial off to him with a sympathetic smile and a pat on the shoulder.

"This should last you through this afternoon, Mr. Malfoy. If you should start feeling anxious or panicky, come see me immediately. Do I have your word?"

Draco nodded and tipped back the phial, the effects of the potion as it slid down his throat almost instantaneous. His shoulders slumped, releasing their tension, and Draco was able to breathe more easily as the potion settled in his stomach. He gave Madam Pomfrey a vague smile as he handed the phial back to her and picked up his bag.

"Thank you. I'll see you in Apparition," Draco said softly, and made his way to the Great Hall for breakfast.

He was feeling a muted glow of pleasure to find his friends waiting at the door for him and fell into step with Gregory as they walked toward their table.

"How was it?" Gregory asked him quietly, and though Draco could tell he was only trying to be supportive, his spine still prickled with vague irritation. 

"It was fine. Madam Pomfrey's doing well this morning," Draco answered and took his seat at the table, scooping some food onto his plate.

The question that lingered above the five of them weighed heavily on Draco, so he wanted to snap at his friends that, yes, he did take his draught, and what of it? But as soon as the angry thought entered his mind, something softer gently volleyed it back out. Draco soon forgot why he was so angry, the thought slipping through his fingers like water, and resumed his breakfast, quiet among them as he tried to focus on the eggs sitting in a small heap on his plate. Draco had little appetite, but he forced down a few bites of them, as well as a piece of toast, before he abruptly pushed back from the table and excused himself.

What was wrong with him? Draco felt as though he were drifting through fog, unsure of where the ground was solid and clear, or where an obstacle was waiting to trip him up in the darkness. Every feeling was coated in a sort of static, so that Draco couldn't see what was lying at its heart. Everything was too distant, too weak in his mind. Joy, anger, disgust, irritation-they were all blending together into one fuzzed out feeling that Draco couldn’t decipher. It took a moment for Draco to realize the Calming Draught was to blame for this, and, try as he might to resent it, the most he could work up was a general sense of disquiet.

Pushing off his efforts to feel, Draco propelled himself down to the potions room early to inspect the new cauldron his mother sent him. He hefted it down off the shelf and sat it at his table, taking a cloth from his potions kit and wiping the inside and outside of the cauldron with thorough vigour. Once that was finished, Draco went through the rest of his kit and examined his materials carefully. Satisfied there was nothing wrong with those either, Draco put them away just in time for the first of his peers to appear. Draco tossed Nott a smile as he took his regular seat at the table across the room, and waved to Pansy when she followed behind him. He was unable to catch Zabini's eye, but this fact did not bother Draco much, as just then Harry slid into the seat next to him and asked why he'd ditched breakfast.

Though the rest of the morning went without incident, Draco still felt that waiting for something terrible to come was almost worse than experiencing it once it did. Draco thought, not for the first time, that if he could feel this much anxiety about it while under the effects of the Calming Draught, he didn't want to experience the paranoia he'd be feeling without it. Draco even made it through lunch without his ham sandwich coming to life and trying to kill him, and so entered his free block without as much as a scratch—a feat that had been nearly impossible for over a week.

Draco followed his friends out into the courtyard by the Great Hall, the cold air nipping at his nose and ears and making him shiver despite the heavy cloak pulled around his jumper. He stopped as he stumbled a bit and looked down, huffing out a little laugh as he realized his shoes were untied. Kneeling down, Draco worked the laces quickly. A strange grating sound bounced off the stone walls of the too-quiet courtyard. Hermione's scream made Draco jerk his head up just in time to see Weasley running at him, but Draco could not pull his wand out before he was bowled over entirely.

"What the hell was that for?" Draco cried as anger lashed out through the fog, but he whipped his head around as a great crash came from the place he'd once been kneeling.

A flying shard of granite grazed Draco's cheek, a thin line of blood running down his face. He laid his hand over it as he turned to Weasley, who was breathing heavily and holding his arm like it hurt. Too many things ran through Draco's mind in that moment, but at the same time it felt entirely devoid of thought. Draco pulled his hand away from his cheek to see the red staining his fingertips and became vaguely aware someone was shouting. He inhaled sharply as someone grabbed his shoulder and jerked him around to find Gregory's worried face staring back at him. His nose was only centimeters away from Draco’s, and he became aware that Gregory’s mouth was moving.

"What?" Draco shook his head, realizing he'd been asked a question.

"Are you okay?" Gregory asked again, looking him over before pointing his wand at Draco's cheek. " _ Episkey _ ," he murmured then, and Draco felt the wound close.

Draco then turned to Weasley, who was now sitting up and breathing heavily as Hermione gripped him tightly in a hug, Harry standing at his shoulder and staring down the pile of rubble before them with a vacant expression.

When Hermione had calmed down enough to release Weasley, she took a shaking step toward the pile and pointed her wand at it.

" _ Reparo _ ," she'd whispered, but stopped the figure from returning to it’s perch once it had been repaired.

It was one of the larger gargoyles that stood guard around the school, and as Hermione examined it, a horrified squeak fell from her lips.

"What is it, 'Mione?" Harry asked immediately, taking a step forward to see what she'd discovered.

Draco turned to Weasley then, taking in the sight of the boy on the ground before him. A boy he had always thought would hate him until the day they died. A boy who had just saved his life, putting his own at risk. Draco's hands shook at the thought, and he realized soon after that he would have done the same. He would have risked his life to save Weasley's, a novel idea which shook Draco to his core. It made him want to run, or at the very least question everything he knew, but he did neither one of these.

Instead, he looked into Ron Weasley's eyes and said, "Thank you." Weasley nodded brusquely and looked embarrassed, both of them grateful for something else to pay attention to a moment later when Hermione called them over. What Draco saw made his stomach sink.

The gargoyle, which Draco had previously thought had just broken off after all these years, had been cleanly severed from its post on the rooftop. Someone had sent it hurtling down on purpose.

"Draco," Harry said slowly, as if afraid of how he would react. "I think someone's behind these accidents."

_ No way! _ Draco wanted to scream back at him.  _ What led you to that conclusion? Could it be my recent series of peculiar accidents?  _ But he simply nodded, his eyes still on the smooth edge where the stone had been sliced away from its perch.

"We should tell McGonagall," Harry added when no one responded. "Right now. 'Mione, you take Draco somewhere safe, and Greg, Ron, and I will take this up to her office."

Draco could do little more than follow when Hermione nodded and took hold of his hand, leading him down the halls and toward the library as if Draco were little more than a rag doll. Once Hermione had him seated at a table deep in the stacks, Draco was beginning to feel more like himself.

"Who could want to do this to you?" Hermione asked as the silence stretched between them.

"That's what I've been trying to figure out since August," Draco answered offhandedly, the whir of his thoughts too great for him to filter them, but immediately regretted it when Hermione rounded on him.

"Since  _ August _ ? Draco Malfoy, this has been happening to you since then?" She cried with no thought to the fact that they sat in the library. "Why- _ why _ have you kept this to yourself? What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't, I guess. I thought they'd get bored if I didn't react to their threats, but I was wrong. I—I have no idea who they could be."

"Then let's start there!" Hermione answered, obviously relishing having a task to focus on, pulling out a piece of parchment. "Tell me what you know about them," she nudged when Draco didn’t speak.

"Well, I suppose they must be an Eighth year. They know which dorm room is mine. So maybe they're a boy too?"

Hermione nodded and scribbled down notes, but sat up as she thought more to it and shook her head.

"Maybe not," she answered after a thoughtful moment. "Girls are allowed up the boy's steps to their dorms, remember?"

"Right, then. Well, they must take potions with me! Or at least know someone who does, because they laced my cauldron with Bulbadox Powder."

"That's so terrible," Hermione whispered, but wrote it down anyway. Draco hated the way her eyebrows scrunched together as she worried over him. "Who from that class could want to hurt you? Who could be everywhere you are, and still fade into the background?”

Draco shrugged and rubbed his eyes as he thought it through.

"I don't know. Zabini, maybe? He cornered me one day in the hall and shouted at me, but he…"

_ Fade into the background… _ Draco trailed off as clarity hit him, his eyes wide, and his hands groping for his bag. There was only one person he knew of who could have terrorized him so without his knowing. Only one person who had always managed to slip to the back of Draco’s mind.

"It's Nott." 

"Not what?" Hermione asked, confusion scribbling across her features. "Not Blaise Zabini?"

"No," Draco answered impatiently. "Theodore Nott. Merlin, it all makes sense. He's been there this whole time under my nose. I thought he just didn't want to associate with me now that his father's in Azkaban and I'm—well, you know what I was. I thought he was avoiding me, but it matches together too well. My potions and herbology classes, the access to my dorm,  _ that day coming out of the library _ !" Draco cried, dragging his hands down his face. "I ran into him, and he snuck that letter into my bag! It's been him all along, how could I have not seen it?"

Draco pushed blindly past Hermione, ignoring her calls for him to come back as he fled the library. Torn between finding Gregory and the others to tell them what he'd discovered and putting a stop to what Nott was doing, he let his feet carry him toward the Great Hall. As if fate had made the decision for him, Draco caught a glimpse of Gregory as he rounded the corner toward the dungeons.

"Gregory!" Draco called as he rushed around the corner just in time to see Gregory disappear once more. "Gregory, wait! There's something I have to tell you!"

Draco ran after him until Gregory finally stopped at a dead end, his back to Draco. Slightly out of breath from his pursuit, Draco frowned and took a step nearer to him.

"Gregory, couldn't you hear me calling you? Why didn't you stop?" Draco shook his head as if to clear it, and as Gregory turned toward him, his face obscured in shadow, Draco could not help but rush to him and throw his arms around the taller boy. "It doesn't matter, I need to talk to you. Harry was right, I just didn't want to tell you. Those accidents the last few days? They weren't accidents at all! Someone has been targeting me since even before Hogwarts, but I've figured it out now. It's Nott, Gregory—can you believe it? This whole time he's been right under my nose! How could I have been so stupid?"

"Yes," Gregory spoke with a voice that was not his own. "How  _ could  _ you have been so stupid?"

"What?" Draco shrank back, stung by his cruelty.

Draco's eyes widened in horror. Under his robes, Gregory seemed to be boiling. The skin of his hands was bubbling, and before Draco’s eyes, Gregory's arms shrank violently, as his frame compressed impossibly. It was a grotesque sight as his skin shifted and broke and repaired itself until he stood right at Draco's height, if not a bit shorter. His hair grew lighter, mousier, and his nose more pointed, until the figure that stood before him looked nothing like Gregory at all.

"I was only agreeing with you, like you always expect me to," the high, reedy voice came again, more coldly. "And it's the truth. Despite what you'd like us all to think, Malfoy, you  _ are  _ quite stupid."

Theodore Nott stared back at Draco, eyes cold with a malice that seemed to root Draco's feet to their spot, but as Nott lifted his wand, Draco was faster.

" _ Flippendo _ !" Draco cried, slashing his wand through the air.

Nott ducked under the burst of light Draco sent toward him and parried with his own jinx.

Draco threw up a shield that sent the curse rebounding, taking the precious few seconds he had while Nott was distracted to duck into an alcove in the wall, breathing heavily with his back pressed against the wall. 

He heard nothing for a few moments and risked a glance around the corner, only to find Nott's wand under his chin and a crazed look in his old friend's eyes.

"Got you," Nott whispered in the space between them.

" _ Stupefy _ !"

And Draco saw nothing more.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to my Betas, Amber1015 and ShadowHeart175!
> 
> The characters and universe in this work are property of J.K Rowling.

The ground was cold against his palms. That was the first thing Draco noticed as he regained his consciousness. Opening his eyes, Draco found he could tell very little about the room he was in between the half-light and the haziness edging his vision. It didn’t help that he was stuck on his side, and as he struggled to sit up, he found that he was unable to. Attempting to at least shift against the hard ground, Draco was alarmed to discover he couldn't even do that. Panic setting in, Draco's eyes darted to a corner when a soft chuckling arose.

"You're a fool, Malfoy. How could you think I wouldn't come after you considering what you've done to me? You let your guard down so carelessly, it was all too easy." Theodore Nott's cruel, taunting voice grew louder as he stepped nearer to Draco.

"Nott, why?" Draco asked, licking his lips nervously. "We were friends. We had each other's backs, I was always there for you—"

"Shut up!" Nott demanded, lunging threateningly toward Draco. "We were not! You never had my back. It was always 'Nott, help me do this,' 'Nott, help me scare Potter,' 'Nott, don't you agree Mudbloods are scum?' It was always me in  _ your  _ corner, never the other way around. You treated me like a lap dog, not a friend."

"So that's why you decided to get back at me? For not being as good a friend as I should have been?" The scorn in his voice was all too apparent. "All of this, just because I didn't pay you enough attention?”

"You truly are stupid, aren't you Malfoy?" Nott laughed wildly, pacing in and out of Draco’s view across the stone floor. "This was never about friendship. It was always about revenge. Making sure you got what was coming to you. Every night, I fell asleep with a smile on my face at the thought that you were just a floor down tossing and turning in your sleep. When I realized my threats were keeping you up at night in the common room, too scared to dream, I was elated. But it wasn't enough for me, not after what you did."

"So, sending letters wasn't enough? Scaring me wasn't enough?  _ Threatening  _ me wasn't  _ enough _ ?"

"Don't get all indignant with me, Malfoy. You forget you're the one in the Full Body-Bind Curse, and I'm the one free to do whatever I want. I didn't send the first letter just to scare you. It really was a warning. I didn't know what I'd do if I saw you in person. I didn't know if I could keep myself from killing you the moment I laid eyes on you. But then you came to school anyway, and you pushed me over the edge. I waited until I found your weakness—that stupid oaf, Goyle—and I threatened to take it away from you. Even then, you wouldn't  _ leave _ . I knew then that I had to take action. 

"Potter was drunk at that party, rambling on with Weasley about some map that showed the location of everyone in Hogwarts. He thought he was being quiet, but I could hear him slurring the password all the way across the room. Sneaking in there the next day was too easy, and I nicked it. But where Potter was drunk, you were wasted. We spoke that night, though I knew you'd remember none of it. You told me how much you loved Goyle, but that you couldn't tell him. You were too scared to ruin the friendship, and you made me swear not to tell."

Draco's cheeks flushed with mingled fury and embarrassment as Nott mocked him.

"After that, after hearing you still had the ability to love, it was too much. I wanted you to hurt. I laced your next letter with Dragon Poison, and hearing that you were laid up in the Hospital Wing gave me more joy than I've felt in a long time, Malfoy. I wanted to make you feel the way I'd felt for so long, but I needed you to do something for me first. So, I sent you your next letter with simple instructions. I knew Slughorn liked you, and that getting those ingredients from the storeroom would be no problem, but for some reason, you didn't come to me. You went to the library instead. Then I saw you with Slughorn and thought, 'This is it,'—but you never came. I was so infuriated, I wrote your next letter without thinking, and almost gave myself away.

"That's when I coated your cauldron in Bulbadox powder. I stole Potter's invisibility cloak that night to get past those Aurors patrolling the corridors. But watching your pain as the boils erupted across your skin wasn't enough for me. So, I followed you out to the Quidditch pitch, and I Confunded your broom. I was so close to getting rid of you when Potter pulled another one of his heroic stunts. I came even closer with the Devil's Snare, but even that stupid lump Longbottom foiled my plans. So, I had to catch you by surprise.

"Dropping that gargoyle was merely a distraction to keep you on your toes. I'd already started brewing the Polyjuice Potion, but I stole the bicorn horn and boomslang skin myself, and I snatched some hairs from Goyle's robes when he wasn't looking. Tricking you after that was all too easy. You were happy to believe Goyle could want a spineless coward like you, and you came running into my trap with arms wide open. Now that you're here, I will finally have my revenge for what you've done."

The hopelessness of his situation was beginning to weigh heavily on Draco, and he tried to move his fingers again to no avail. Eyes wide and frantic, he searched for any possible way of escaping, before finally letting them land on Nott's face.

"But  _ why _ ?" Draco cried, confusion plain on his face. "If it wasn't that I was a bad friend, what did I ever do to you to deserve this?"

Draco cried out as Nott kicked him in the face, blood pouring from his nose and dribbling down his chin.

"Why?" Nott repeated mockingly and gave a cruel laugh. " _ Why _ ?" he asked again, more menacingly, and gave Draco another kick. "Because it's your fault my family fell apart!"

" _ What _ ?" Draco gasped out through the pain. "How is that my fault?"

"My father is in Azkaban because of you and your damned family!" Nott was raging, kicking any part of Draco he could reach. "My father went to Azkaban, and you're lying here in front of me!" he howled, stomping away from Draco and resuming his heated pacing.

Draco found he could move his fingers now Nott was losing focus, and quickly decided on a plan of action.

"Not my f-fault," Draco said thickly around the blood in his mouth. “He had a choice.”

"Not your fault?" Nott gave a wild laugh, his eyes crazed as he turned back to Draco. "It's your father who promised mine it would all turn out right this time. 'Potter's done for,' he'd say, 'We've almost got him now,' 'There's no way the Dark Lord will lose this time, his powers have grown so vastly,' all his words! Your stinking coward father told us it would work. He promised the Dark Lord would get rid of Potter, and then we'd be on top. And maybe he would have been correct—if not for you."

Nott stalked around him slowly, Draco's eyes following him until Nott disappeared behind his back. Draco's breaths came quickly and shallowly, fear making his body rigid in place of the curse. 

"You just had to ruin it for the rest of us, didn't you?" Nott's soft voice came from behind him. " _ Crucio _ ."

But Draco was ready for him and rolled out of the way of the curse. He pushed himself up to his knees, head swimming at the sudden movement, and staggered as he stood. Draco turned his wand on the spot where Nott had stood, only to find that he had disappeared into the dim light of the room.

"I'm the coward?" Draco choked a laugh out past his fear as he turned in a slow circle. "Come out from under Potter's cloak if you're so brave!"

Focus pooled his palms in sweat as Draco made a mad dash for the door, barely ducking under the stunning spell Nott threw after him. He whirled back around just in time to see Nott’s arm disappear back under the cloak and raised his own wand for the attack.

“ _ Levicorpus! _ ” Draco cried, and a shout left Nott as the cloak slipped off his suspended body.

“ _ Bombarda! _ ” 

Draco dove out of the way of the blast, splinters of wood flying like thousands of tiny arrows from the wardrobe Nott had destroyed. They struck Draco in scores, and as his concentration waned, Nott fell back to the floor and drug the cloak over himself once more. Draco’s breath came in ragged gasps, his cuts stinging, and pointed his wand toward the last place he’d seen Nott.

" _ Crucio _ !" the disembodied voice came from the far wall, and this time Draco was not quick enough.

This pain Draco had not felt in months came rushing back in a blaze of white-hot agony, and he fell to the floor as a scream ripped from his lungs, on and on until his throat hurt.

"You had him!" Nott shouted above his screams. "You had Potter in your grasp, you were so close to ending it for all of us, and you let him go!"

Draco could barely hear him over his agony as he convulsed on the floor.

"Even when we lost, you promised me you'd do all you could to get my father off! You swore you'd testify, but you vanished like the coward you are!"

Nott let off the curse, and Draco fell still on the floor, weak and breathing heavily, but alive. His respite did not last long before Nott was casting the curse again and Draco writhed as the pain wracked his body.

"You promised! You and your arrogant father promised us, and you lied!" Draco thought he heard tears in Nott's voice, but he couldn't be sure. "This is all your fault! If you had just handed Potter over, if you had just killed him in the battle, if you had _ just been there for me _ —"

" _ Expelliarmus _ !" another voice cried in the darkness, and Nott's wand flew across the room with a clatter.

Heavy footsteps ran toward them, and as the Cruciatus Curse was lifted, Draco turned just in time to see Gregory run at Nott with a roar. Draco tried to tell him to stop, but the words couldn't escape his raw throat. Gregory didn't bother to use his wand in this duel, instead subduing the smaller boy with sheer strength as he tackled Nott to the floor, not far from where Draco lay.

"Draco?" a third voice, Draco thought it could be Hermione, called out in the dim light. "Oh, Draco!" she cried again, and he could vaguely see her drop to her knees by his side through the waves of nausea that wracked through him.

Her cool fingers on his cheeks, feeling out his injuries, were the last things Draco felt before he slipped into the darkness that had been creeping in from the edge of his vision.

…

When Draco awoke in the Hospital Wing, he opened his eyes to find his mother holding his hand tightly, her own eyes swimming with worried tears. She was talking softly to someone else on the other side of his bed, but Draco could not bring himself to look at them.

"Mother?" he croaked after several tries, his voice rough with disuse.

Her eyes flew down to examine his face, and the tears fell more freely as she gripped his hand to her chest.

"Oh, my boy, my precious boy," she whispered as she smoothed her hand across his forehead, unable to say much else.

"Please, don't cry," Draco forced out, using all his effort to lift an arm and brush his thumb against the back of her hand. "Mother, I'm fine, see?"

She glanced down at him and shook her head, and, as if unable to bear it any longer, she released his hand and hurried from the Hospital Wing. Draco watched her go, a hole stretching open in his heart to release the sadness within it, until a soft cough brought his attention back to the person on his other side. Turning his head with great difficulty, Draco found Gregory staring down at him with an unreadable expression. He flinched back as Gregory reached toward him, but the taller boy only brushed his fingertips against a bruise on his cheekbone before withdrawing them.

"I'm sorry," Gregory finally murmured, a frown pressing down the corners of his mouth.

"No!" Draco gasped, guilt saturating him. "Why?" he demanded then, the first spark of fight coming back to him.

"I was supposed to be there for you, and I failed you. You got hurt, you could have—" Gregory's voice broke, and Draco's stomach clenched uncomfortably. "If Hermione hadn't figured out where you were going, that you were going at it alone—if she hadn't found those letters under your bed—why didn't you tell me before then?" Gregory’s words cut like a whip as fury colored his cheeks, and Draco cringed back in their wake. "Why didn't you tell me someone was doing this to you? Why did you wait so long? I could have helped, I would have put a stop to this, and I—"

" _ Gregory _ ," Draco let out the word in a rush, his heart splintering. " _ Stop _ , please, stop. This isn't your fault. This was nothing to do with you, it was all me. I didn't want to burden you; I didn't realize how serious those threats were. It all just escalated so quickly, and then he was threatening you—" Draco paused, tears welling up in his eyes. "He was making me think he would come after you too, and I couldn't let him hurt you, Gregory, you mean too much to me."

"Draco, you're my whole world," Gregory said after a moment of silence, like it was the most obvious fact in existence. "You are the centre of my universe. If anything happened to you, I would fall apart. Nothing would make sense to me—up would be down, day would be night—it would all derail. I'm here because of you; I've stayed this long because of you; everything I do is for  _ you _ . Draco, I—"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Goyle, but visiting hours are over for the night," Madam Pomfrey's voice struck like lightning, and Draco, preoccupied with staring at Gregory in a state of awe, snapped around to look at her.

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey, but I just need a moment to—"

" _ Mr. Goyle _ ," she snapped, and Gregory gave Draco a pained look before heading for the door. "And please," Madam Pomfrey's voice softened as she called after him, and Gregory turned back to look at her. "Don't sleep outside the door tonight. Go back to your dorm."

Draco's heart swelled at that, but curiosity wriggled into his joy like a worm to an apple, and he turned to his mentor with a vague frown.

"How long have I been asleep?"

"Two days," she answered quietly, putting her hand on the rail at the end of his bed. "I was very worried for you. However, it is not time to sleep again just yet, Mr. Malfoy. Your mother has composed herself, and Professor McGonagall has been waiting for you to wake up to ask you some questions about that night. Can you hold out a bit longer?"

Draco hesitated only a moment before he gave a slight nod.

"Yes, of course. But could you bring me something to eat?"

Madam Pomfrey gave him a curt nod and walked toward the door. McGonagall and his mother replaced her moments later, the former coming to stand by his head as his mother resumed her seat and took up his hand. Looking into her face, he could barely tell she had been crying, and she turned to him with a soft smile as she ran her fingers through his hair. Draco felt a bit foolish as McGonagall stared down at him, but he fought back his embarrassment and forced his screeching muscles into a sitting position.

"Good evening, Headmistress," Draco said levelly, giving her a respectful nod.

"Mr. Malfoy," she answered, her stern face looking even graver than it usually did. "You have been put through many challenges this term, and I am pleased that you have come through all of them a better man. You have shown immense bravery and compassion; I am very impressed with you."

"Thank you, Headmistress."

"I have a few questions for you about Theodore Nott. He is being held at the Ministry now, and your testimony will decide how harsh of a punishment he receives.”

"Of course," Draco’s lips suddenly felt very dry, and he shifted uncomfortably on the bed.

"Let's start here. When did Mr. Nott first send you an anonymous letter?"

Draco shuddered at the flood of memories and swallowed the rock that seemed to form in his throat. Steeling himself, he launched into his tale. He told her about the letters, about the “accidents” that had followed him that year. He told her about how Nott had baited him into the dark corridor, disguised as Gregory, and how intense the following battle had been once the potion wore off. He told her about waking up in that dark room, about why Nott was so angry, and how he had used the Cruciatus Curse on him. He told her how his friends had come for him, but that he could remember nothing after that. McGonagall was quiet for the duration of his story, only nodding sternly as she took note of what he told her. Even after he'd stopped talking, she wrote, her mouth pressed into a thin line. However, once she had finished, McGonagall gave him a small nod before heading for the door.

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy. We will be sure Mr. Nott is brought to justice."

Draco frowned at that, pushing himself up further regardless of how it hurt.

"Wait, Professor!" He called, and she turned back to him. "What Nott needs is help, not punishment. He isn't well, Professor. He's just lost his father, and he's hurting. I hope you'll consider that in the report you send to the Ministry."

McGonagall stood and stared at him for so long Draco began to feel nervous, but she gave him another nod.

"You do not cease to surprise me, Mr. Malfoy. I am very impressed by this request." Turning to his mother, her face seemed to soften. "Narcissa, if you could meet me in my office shortly, I will have the Floo prepared for you to return home."

With that, she swept from the room, and Narcissa turned to Draco with a resigned look on her features.

"I don't suppose any level of begging will convince you to come home with me, my love?" she murmured, and Draco could not bring himself to do more than shake his head. She only sighed and leaned down to lay a kiss on his forehead before standing up and releasing his hand. "Then I will see you in two weeks for the holidays. Goodbye, my love."

"Goodbye, Mother," Draco whispered to her retreating back, now alone in the dark

Sliding down to lay flat on his back, Draco stared up at the ceiling. Though he had made it through, though he had come out alive, he felt no elation. No sense of peace fell over him—instead a vague numbness sent him off to sleep. 

…

News had spread quickly around the castle in the two days it took Draco to recover, and when he was released the next morning, he was surprised to find himself something of a celebrity. People he didn't know greeted him in the hallway. Girls in younger years blushed and giggled as he passed by them on his way to class. The same children that threw jinxes at his back were now smiling and waving to him, and it was all beginning to feel very strange. The first time it happened, Draco was coming out of the Hospital Wing to find a group of First Years whispering with thinly-veiled reverence and staring at him with wide eyes. When a stuttering Ravenclaw girl handed him a homemade card a week later, Draco thought he had been teleported into a different dimension. He'd mentioned all of these strange occurrences to his friends one afternoon at lunch, but to his chagrin, all but Gregory laughed at him.

"What's funny about this? People keep giving me gifts and looking at me like I'm—" Draco paused, the idea ridiculous even to himself.

" _ Famous _ ?" Harry finished. "It's because you are. You made the front page of  _ Witch Weekly, The Daily Prophet _ , and  _ The Quibbler _ after what happened with Nott. Here, we saved you a copy."

Draco glanced down at the headline of the paper Harry slid to him, and his stomach twisted.

"Reformed Death Eater Attacked:  _ Draco Malfoy's Brave Stand Against Death Eater Sympathizer _ " Stared back at him from the cover of  _ Witch Weekly _ , a photo of him unconscious in the Hospital Wing under it.

"Oh, I'm sure Madam Pomfrey is thrilled to know some hack got into the Hospital Wing and snapped my photo," he muttered, shaking his head. "This is too much. I'm no hero. He attacked me, and I fought back. What's the big deal?"

"I know," Harry said gravely, nodding his head. "That's what I've been trying to tell people since I was eleven." 

With that, the table burst into a fit of laughter, Draco passing the paper back around to Harry and feeling better than he had all week. For the first time in years, Draco could feel the tension leaving his shoulders as he realized his situation. He was safe now. The Dark Lord was gone. He hadn't received a single piece of hate mail since Nott was taken away. No one at school was there to threaten him now. A smile pulling at his lips, Draco finally let go of the breath he'd been holding since he was sixteen and looked toward his future with hope.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be up hours ago as a Christmas Special, so I’ll be posting the next, and final, chapter directly after. 
> 
> Shout out to my Betas, Amber1015 and ShadowHeart175! 
> 
> The characters and universe in this work are property of J.K Rowling.

Finally alone with his thoughts for longer than five minutes, Draco was able to mull over McGonagall's announcement at dinner the night before. In light of the tension that had been surrounding the students, she had put plans into motion for a Christmas Ball, not so dissimilar from the Yule Ball, in order to take their minds off of their worries and promote house unity. If it weren't for the required attendance, Draco wasn't quite sure whether or not he'd go. He'd let his guard slip too far at the last party he had attended, and he would not make the same mistake twice. Finding a date didn't worry him; he knew Gregory would go as his friend.

It was a cold day, Draco sitting close to the fire with a blanket draped over his lap and a book he had not opened yet in his hands when Gregory sat down on the couch next to him, breaking Draco from his thoughts. They exchanged awkward smiles and little nods before Draco opened the book and hid his face behind it. Things had been weird with Gregory ever since Madam Pomfrey had interrupted what he was trying to say that night, and they hadn't revisited the topic since. The charged silence stretched on for what felt like centuries before Gregory cleared his throat.

" So, uh, are you going to the Christmas ball?"

Draco gave a sudden laugh as he pulled the book down to look at him.

" Of course. We have to, remember?"

" Right," Gregory answered quickly, nodding to himself and avoiding meeting Draco's eyes. "Somehow the ball being required makes it seem less fun."

" Maybe we could sneak something in?" Draco suggested, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. "Not to spike the punch, of course. It'd be just for us. We can stand on the edge this time and watch our friends make fools of themselves."

" Yeah," Gregory chuckled. "We can sneak in some Puking Pastilles or Fever Fudge and leave early."

" I was thinking more along the lines of Firewhisky, but we could save that for after we ditch the ball, eh?" Draco asked as he stretched and looked toward the clock. "Oh, it's nearly twelve thirty. Are you hungry?"

" Lunch sounds good," Gregory answered, pushing himself up to his feet and offering Draco a hand.

Draco took the offered assistance, after a moment of hesitation, but endeavoured to hide the awkward moment in a search for his shoes.

…

Coming out of lunch, Draco and Gregory were surprised to find a great number of students screaming and barrelling towards the doors. Draco's wand was out before he could realize they were screams of excitement coming from too many bundled up first years, and the two followed the crowd warily. Stepping out of the front doors, Draco was surprised to see a fresh blanket of snow had fallen whilst they were eating. Hufflepuffs were making snowmen, Ravenclaws designing igloos out of perfectly made blocks of snow. Draco spotted Harry and his friends further out on the lawn and called for Gregory to follow him as he walked a little faster to meet them. Harry was the first to see them coming, a grin splitting his face. Draco waved as they came to a stop and fished his gloves out of his pocket.

" Is that all you've got?" Harry scolded him and unwound the scarlet and gold scarf from his neck before wrapping it around Draco's. "You'll catch your death out in this cold."

" Oh, sure, thanks mum," Draco scoffed with a dramatic eye roll. "What are you guys doing out here?"

" We're having a good old-fashioned snowball fight, you know, to promote house unity," Harry answered with a wink. "No wands, no magic; just hands, and snow, and using your brute strength to cow others into submission. Every man for himself!" Harry cried, and stuffed a handful of snow down Weasley's jumper before darting out of reach.

Weasley swore loudly and hopped and flailed about, trying desperately to get the snow out of his jumper before he took off after Harry. The lawn descended into chaos, snowballs flying in each and every direction. Siblings turned on each other, lovers were betrayed as they were caught on either side of this “war”, and people were shoving their friends' faces into the snow with unadulterated joy. Draco saw Gregory in a standoff against Lovegood and was moving to help him when he noticed Harry running directly at him. It was too late to dive out of the way as Harry tackled him right into the icy snow, and Draco hit the ground with an audible oof.

Harry was laughing, his legs straddling Draco's waist, and his hands burying Draco's shoulders into the snow. Draco stopped struggling after a moment, feigning surrender, so when Harry lingered in the space above him, looking rather distracted by something on Draco's chin, Draco grabbed a handful of snow and shoved it into his face with reckless abandon. He managed to push Harry off himself moments later and re-entered the fray with a vengeance.

Twenty minutes later, and they were all too wet to be out in the cold any longer. Draco had caught up to a quiet Gregory and was entering the castle when he heard Harry calling after him.

" Draco, wait!"

Turning to look at him, Draco watched as Harry broke away from Hermione and ran to keep pace with them. He lingered there with Gregory until Harry had fallen in stride, all three of them heading inside to warm up.

" I was actually wondering if I could talk to you for a moment?" Harry asked, and Draco thought he looked nervous.

" Sure, mate. What's wrong?"

" Alone, I mean?" Harry added, glancing toward Gregory with what looked like an apologetic smile.

" I need to go to the library anyway," Gregory muttered, and broke away from them before Draco could say anything. "See you around."

" Bye!" Draco called after him before turning back to Harry and stepping out of the way of the hall traffic. "What's the matter, then?"

" It's actually about the ball at the end of the week. Would you want to go with me?" Harry asked, and Draco gave a little laugh.

" What, the Chosen One can't find a girl to take?" Draco teased, nudging him with his elbow.

Harry laughed with him and rubbed the back of his neck.

" I'm not really looking for a girlfriend right now, you know?"

Draco gave him a small smile and nodded, seeing no problem with allowing Harry into his and Gregory's plans. After all, with Hermione and Weasley going together, third wheeling wouldn't be much fun at all.

" Sure, mate. I'll go with you."

" Excellent," Harry answered with a grin, and rushed off to catch up with Weasley. "It's a date!" he called back, flashing Draco one more grin before disappearing around the corner.

Turning back to meet Gregory at the library, Draco caught a snippet of the conversation Pansy was having with Daphne Greengrass.

" And so, I think Gregory Goyle and I are dating now!" she giggled, rounding the corner before Draco fully registered what he'd heard.

As it sank in, Draco was surprised by the overwhelming surge of jealousy that wracked through him. It was like some animal was fighting to claw its way up his throat and out his mouth, and Draco struggled to swallow it back down before it consumed him entirely.

" Draco, are you alright? You look like you're going to be sick."

Draco looked up to find Hermione staring back at him, concern written across her face.

" I think so," Draco groaned back, leaning against the wall for support. "Forget about it, I'm just being dramatic," he elaborated, pressing his palms to his eyes. "I'll be fine."

" You don't look like you're going to be fine," Hermione answered, looking around the crowd of students as it began to thin out. "Where's Gregory?"

Another wave of jealousy was accompanied by nausea at the thought of Gregory and the mere concept of him dating Pansy— _ Pansy _ , of all people! Never mind that she and Draco had made up, it was just all so  _ wrong _ .

" The library, I think? He left because Harry wanted to talk to me privately."

" Oh, did Harry finally ask you to the ball?" Hermione asked, her tone lifting. "Took him long enough. He'd been talking about asking you all week. Ron owes me five sickles. We had a bet going on whether or not he'd actually ask you."

" It shouldn't have been such a big deal," Draco answered, confused. "Of course I would have said yes."

" Alright, then what is it that has you so upset?" she asked.

" I can't explain it myself," he replied, rubbing violently at his temples. "I was completely fine one second, and then I overheard Pansy saying that she and Gregory were dating, and all of a sudden it felt like something was trying to rip itself from my body."

Draco knew in the back of his mind why this hurt so badly, but he was too afraid of what it would mean if he said it out loud. Saying it made it real.

" Pansy Parkinson?" Hermione asked, scorn evident in her tone. "No offense, but I don't think Gregory would date Pansy. Not to mention, are you actually going to believe that just because she said it? You know as well as I do that Pansy is a horrible gossip. I'd bet she's just trying to stir up some sort of drama."

" You really think so?" Draco answered, incredulous. "What a stupid thing to lie about. If it isn't true, she has no right to play with people's feelings like that. For a split second, I thought I was going to throw a punch right there in the corridor. Merlin, that makes me a terrible person."

" No, it doesn't!" Hermione laughed, shaking her head. "But, you know, I think there's one simple way to find out whether or not she's lying."

" What's that?"

" Ask Gregory!" she replied, as if it were obvious. "He's not trying to make you angry or jealous, and he wouldn't lie to you. He's your best friend, Draco."

" You know why I can't do that," Draco whispered miserably.

It would all be too grotesquely obvious. There was no way Draco could just ask Gregory if he had some secret girlfriend he was keeping from Draco without sounding crazy.

" You could be casual about it," Hermione said, and reached out to grab his hand. "Just say you heard Pansy mention it, and were curious—or, if it would make you feel better, I could ask him."

In that moment, Draco was struck by just how much he had come to love and appreciate Hermione. Bold, brave, compassionate, and understanding, she had become one of his closest friends in just a few short months.

" Would you?" Draco asked hopefully. "It would mean very much to me."

" Of course, Draco, but you owe me now," she grinned, keeping hold of his hand as they retreated to the common room.

…

Gregory was avoiding him. Draco hadn't been able to pin him down for longer than five minutes at a time before Gregory was making some excuse, or Pansy was whisking him off to discuss details about the dance. Even though Hermione had been able to debunk Pansy's statement that they were dating, Draco's heart fell to his feet when she informed him that they were indeed attending the dance together. Jealousy ate away at his core, and despite their newly reconnected friendship, it was all Draco could do to keep himself from duelling her in the middle of the common room. And this distance from Gregory was driving him mad with insecurity, so Draco constantly felt moments away from locking Gregory in their dorm room and forcing him to tell Draco what he had done to deserve this silent treatment.

But where Gregory had been distant, Harry was practically attached to Draco's hip. He was constantly touching him—laying his arm around Draco's shoulders, casually touching the small of Draco's back if he was trying to scoot past him, or grabbing hold of Draco's hand as they walked and spinning him around. They were weird changes, but Draco had seen Harry do all of those and more to Hermione, so he laughed them off and thought little of them. They did, however, make him miss Gregory even more, and often brought his attention back to the fact that his friend was quite obviously avoiding him on purpose.

When the night of the ball arrived, Draco was miserable. He hadn't seen Gregory at all in the two days preceding it, and he constantly felt sick with longing. It was ridiculous to feel this jealous, he knew. It wasn't like Gregory had any obligation to him, nor did Draco have any claim over the boy. Draco put on a smile for Harry anyway as he joined him in the common room, draped in his dress robes. He let Harry take his arm, Hermione giving Draco a sad smile, and followed his friends down to the Great Hall.

Entering the vast room, it was not the elegant decorations or band that caught Draco's eye. It was Gregory, looking more handsome in his dress robes than Draco had ever thought possible. He subconsciously took a step toward him, only to freeze in place as he watched Gregory spin Pansy into his arms. It was as if someone had thrown Draco into the lake, icy water flooding into his lungs and making it impossible to breathe at the sight. He didn't have long to dwell on his heartbreak as Harry pulled him out onto the floor and began dancing with him.

Draco tried to forget his pain as Harry pulled and turned him around and found that after the second or third song, he was actually beginning to enjoy himself. Another song later, and he was laughing at Harry's ridiculous dance moves, a grin pulling at the corner of his lips. Draco was jumping around and nodding his head to the beat when Harry grabbed his hand again and spun Draco in to face him. Draco was smiling at him, about to tease Harry about his stupid dancing, when Harry leaned across the small space between them and captured Draco's lips in a kiss. Blindsided, Draco's eyes grew wide as he stumbled back away from him.

" Harry, mate, no," Draco said in a rush, wracking his brain for any reason Harry would have had to do that.

" Oh, Merlin, Draco—" Harry stammered, his face scarlet from chin to scar. "I—I'm sorry, I thought…" He let the sentence hang, clearly embarrassed.

Draco's heart twisted with pity as he shook his head.

" Harry, you're one of my best mates, and I love you for that," he said apologetically. "But that's all we can be. I'm sorry—" Draco broke off, scanning the crowd for Gregory.

He thought he caught sight of him pushing his way through the people at the door, and Draco tossed a sad smile toward Harry before he took off to follow Gregory. Draco was almost to the door before someone stumbled into him, and as Draco turned to look at them, his eyes narrowed as they found Pansy.

" Why, hello, Draco dear. How was your snog with the Chosen One?"

Draco rolled his eyes and moved to brush past her, but she kept pace with him.

" I'd hardly call that a snog, Pansy. Did you see which way Gregory went? I need to find him."

" You know, I don't think Greg really wants to see you right now," Pansy answered with a sympathetic smile.

" Why not? Do you know why he's been avoiding me?" Draco asked.

" You truly are clueless, Draco Malfoy," she said, shaking her head.

" Pansy, please, I don't have time for this!" Draco shouted, frustration colouring his tone. "Can you tell me where he's going or not?"

" I can try and help you if you want?" She offered. "Where's somewhere he goes a lot?"

As if someone had lifted the veil from Draco's eyes, he knew where Gregory would be headed.

" No, that's fine," Draco answered quickly, and tossed her a slight smile. "You should get back in there. I saw Michael Corner eyeing you a while ago."

" Oh, please, Draco. You know I'm not interested in anyone here. I only asked Gregory to help you realize how badly you cared for him, and I would say I had great success in that." She paused a moment before continuing more hesitantly. "Do you want to know what he said when I asked him to come with me?"

" What?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow.

" Well, Greg seemed to be under the impression you two were going together, but I had just seen you accept Harry's offer to go with him and politely informed Greg about it. After that, he wasn't too thrilled, but he agreed to go with me."

" What the hell, Pansy?" Draco cried, stepping away from her. "I thought Harry only wanted to join us, I didn't realize it was a date! I was furious when I heard you asked him!"

" That was the point, my love," she answered with a twist of her lips. "Now, there's a dance floor calling my name, so unless you need any more of my sage wisdom...?"

" No, you've done enough," Draco said, shaking his head. "I'm going to find Gregory."

" Go get him, Draco!" Pansy called after him, and Draco flushed at the cheers pulled from some of the students near the door.

Draco practically ran down the corridors, headed straight for the Slytherin common room. He found Gregory standing before its door, guessing passwords at random and groaning in frustration with each one he got wrong.

" Have you tried 'Salazar Slytherin's dirty pants' yet?" Draco called softly, and Gregory whipped around to face him as Draco came to stand in front of him. "Gregory," Draco said, all humour draining from his tone. "We need to talk. You've been avoiding me all week, and I wasn't even sure what I'd done to drive you away. I need you to talk to me."

" Nothing," Gregory said with a small sigh, shaking his head. "You did nothing. It's just been a weird week. Pansy kept acting like she was my girlfriend, and you seemed to be spending a lot of time with Harry. I didn’t need you, and it was clear you didn’t need me.”

The words stung like a whip, and Draco flinched back.

" Oh, well it's good to know how you feel, I suppose. I was just worried when I saw you leave, but I'll leave you alone if that's what you want," he returned with an iciness in his voice, turning away.

" No, wait," Gregory said, grabbing Draco's hand. "Please don't go."

" Okay," Draco answered slowly, reaching out to take Gregory's free hand in his own. "I missed you," he said after a moment. "I missed you a lot."

" I missed you too. It's been a very long week. Avoiding you was particularly difficult."

" Oh, so you  _ were  _ avoiding me?" Draco asked, raising his eyebrows.

" Well, I wasn't trying to at first. It was more trying to avoid seeing you with Harry. Harry and his stupid longing looks, and touches," Gregory frowned then, almost as if he had not meant to say that out loud.

" That's a shame," Draco answered with a small smile despite how fast his heart seemed to be beating too fast. "You were too busy watching Harry look at me to see me looking at you."

Gregory stared at him for a moment before realization dawned on his face and he grew a sheepish smile.

" Well, you know I've always been a bit oblivious," he said quietly, as if he were afraid that speaking too loudly would ruin this moment.

" I haven't been very observant myself," Draco conceded, and Gregory gave a short laugh.

" You know, now that you and Harry have snogged, we can safely say that you won't kill anyone by kissing them."

" Why does everyone keep saying that?" Draco protested, rolling his eyes. "It was barely a kiss! Only a little more than a peck—I wouldn't even really  _ count  _ it—"

" That's not why I brought it up," Gregory interrupted him, his eyes falling to rest on Draco's lips.

Draco froze, shock apparent on his face as his brain seemed to stop working.

" Oh," was all he could manage to say, his cheeks turning pink.

Gregory glanced up above his head before giving Draco a nudge. Once he'd followed Gregory's eyes, he was surprised to find a bundle of mistletoe had grown above the spot they stood.

" Draco?" Gregory asked, and immediately, Draco's eyes were on him once more. "May I kiss you?"

His blush did not dissipate, but Draco nodded, a reverent "Yes" tumbling from his lips. Gregory kept a hold of his hands, and Draco felt his eyelashes flutter on his cheeks as Gregory leaned in and laid his lips gently against Draco's. Draco had wondered many times how this might feel, but his imagination had done no justice to Gregory. It wasn't the rough, frustrated kiss that Draco had been expecting—the one he would have initiated when his feelings eventually reached their boiling point. It was soft, and it was gentle, and there was something about it that was so Gregory that it felt like coming home.


	18. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are. Thank you for getting here with me! This is the first fic I’ve ever finished, and I am so pleased with how it turned up. If there are any loose ends I haven’t tied up, or just things you have questions about, drop me a comment, and I will get back to you!
> 
> Shout out to my Betas, Amber1015 and ShadowHeart175! 
> 
> The characters and universe in this work are property of J.K Rowling.

The potions room, nestled deep down in the dungeons of Hogwarts, was spacious and well lit, the warm light of the lanterns constantly battling with stone walls as its orange shadows danced along them. The jars of ingredients and grotesque souvenirs that were once out on display were now tucked away in cabinets painted a rich emerald green. Several of the shelves around the room were lined by a hotchpotch of leafy magical plants, making the room seem truly alive, filled with growing things. All in all, it looked very different from the room Severus had occupied in his years of teaching. It was one of Draco's favourite places to be.

It was also unbearably silent as Draco stood at his chalkboard. Despite his affection for the place he worked, he still glanced longingly towards the door of his classroom, the desire to walk out through it strong. Draco looked out over his first year students, all clumped in groups of three or four and bent over their papers to scribble down the recipe on the board. The scratching of their quills on parchment was the only source of sound in the room, and it was threatening to drive Draco mad.

He loathed notes days—there was nothing he could do but lecture and wait for them to take it all down—but Draco also recognized the importance of such lessons with a grudging sort of acceptance. Turning his head back toward the board, Draco read over the instructions written there while a battle waged in his mind. It was a simple potion, one he knew they would master come Monday, and it was with that certainty that Draco made his decision. Smiling to himself, Draco suddenly clapped his hands together, startling several of the students closest to him.

" Right then, what do you all say we end class now and start the weekend early?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

This suggestion was met with a chorus of cheers and within seconds his students were dumping parchment and quills carelessly into their bags and throwing them over their shoulders. Draco fastened his traveling cloak around his neck as his last student scampered out the door, calling for him to have a good weekend. He knew he likely wouldn't need it as the warm fall days dragged themselves out, but it would only be a short walk down to Hogsmeade before he was home, and he could always shed the extra layer if it became too hot.

Draco would have liked to say that this was a rare occurrence, but the Potions Master had a strong affinity for his Friday afternoons, and released his students early more often than he kept them. In his humble opinion, a day off was much more important to growing minds and tired professors than dragging through to the end of class just because they should. That thought in mind, Draco slipped the last of his things into his brown messenger bag, glanced around the classroom to be sure he hadn't left anything out of place, and swept out the door with a bounce in his step.

" Professor Malfoy," the stern voice of Headmistress McGonagall came from behind him, and Draco stopped in his tracks, cursing his luck.

" Why, Headmistress," he answered cheerfully, turning to greet her. "What brings you down to my potions room this fine day?"

" You let your students out early, Professor Malfoy."

" Yes, about that-"

" Again."

Draco let out a soft sigh as he rubbed the back of his neck.

" I'm sorry, Minerva," even after five years, he wasn't used to calling her that, "but it's such a lovely afternoon, don't you think? They were practically wilting in their seats."

" How could you know how lovely it is?" she asked, incredulous. "Your classroom is in the dungeons. It could be raining for all you know!"

" All the better reason for me to get home quickly, wouldn't you agree?" Draco answered, but gave her the most repentant smile he could manage. "I'm sorry again, Headmistress, but they're exactly where they should be! They won't fall behind; you have my word."

" Give your family my love!" Minerva called after him, abandoning her stern façade to an indulgent smile as she waved him down the hall.

A smile lit Draco's face as he hurried out of the castle and into the sunlight. His prediction had been correct—there was no need for the cloak, but it wasn't a particularly hot day either, so Draco left it on. The fallen leaves crunched pleasantly beneath Draco's feet and looked beautiful against the stark green of the lawn, making his walks home one of the best parts of his day. Hagrid, as Draco discovered, truly was a wonderful groundskeeper. He waved to Draco from his hut as he passed by, and Draco raised his hand to return the greeting before strolling down the path to Hogsmeade.

As he grew closer to the sleepy town, a light breeze kicked up the air around him, and the sweet smell of Honeyduke's put a spring in his step. Draco could not help but stop and visit the small candy store as he walked by, picking up two Chocolate Frogs, a Pumpkin Pasty, and a box of Pixie Puffs before he bade Ambrosius Flume and his wife goodbye. Draco set back out on his way with a grin on his lips and warm anticipation in his stomach.

Just on the outskirts of the small village Draco stopped in front of a charming Tudor cottage, where the green garden in front made a striking display against the white of the walls, and pulled his wand out to unlock the door. He shrugged off his cloak and hung it up on a peg by the window, shutting the door firmly behind him. Draco paused in the empty foyer and listened for signs of life in his typically noisy home, a curious frown pulling at his lips.

" I'm home early, my love!" he called out into the emptiness, starting for the kitchen when a loud roar came from behind him and made him drop the treats he held in his arms.

"Oh, Merlin's shaggy beard!" Draco swore and whipped around to find Gregory laughing with delight, a young brown-eyed boy giggling in his arms with just as much joy. Gregory set the toddler on the floor, and he tottered over to Draco on eager but unsteady legs. Draco scooped him up once he was close enough and began pressing noisy kisses to his nose and cheeks, delighting in the laughter that bubbled from the boy in his arms.

" You rascals!" he scolded light-heartedly. "You scared me half to death! How are my boys today?" Draco cooed to the boy as he set him on his hip.

" We're well," Gregory answered. "Orion took his nap today like a champ."

" Oh, excellent job, love!" Draco praised, giving Orion's cheek another kiss before kneeling to recover his treats. "Daddy has something special for you today."

" What's it?" Orion piped up, voice sweet, wrapping his arms around Draco's neck and trying to get a better look at what he was holding.

His high voice became a squeal of joy as Draco presented the pasty to him, and Orion's tiny hands reached for it until Draco relented and wandered into the kitchen. He dropped Orion into his highchair and put the treat down in front of him with the instruction to be careful and a fond kiss to the top of his head.

" Are there any treats for me?" Gregory asked with a coy smile before taking Draco by the waist and pulling him close to kiss him sweetly.

" Of course there are," he answered breathlessly, offering him one of the Chocolate Frogs in his hands. "Was he really good, or are you just telling me that? I know our mothers don't mind watching him for us, but if he's too much of a handful-"

" Draco, love, he's fine," Gregory reassured him, unwrapping the frog and pulling a leg off for Orion, who fell upon it with unadulterated glee. "They adore having him around. Do you honestly think they'd let him walk all over them?"

Draco turned toward his son and considered his features carefully. Dimples, sweet brown curls, and beautiful brown doe eyes stared back at him before he turned back to his husband with a sceptical expression. Gregory only laughed and pulled Draco against his chest, one arm wrapped loosely around his waist whilst the other held his snack. Draco was content to rest there, his cheek pressed against Gregory's shoulder and his eyes closed.

" I suppose you're right," Draco conceded after a moment. "They'll have to find a way to hold their own against him somehow."

" I don't know, Draco, somehow changing his diapers manages to break the spell for me."

…

Only a few hours later, Draco was sitting on the couch with Orion fast asleep against his chest and Gregory's arm around him. They had finished their dinner some time ago, and put on one of Orion's favourite movies, only for him to drop off to sleep before the end of the opening credits. Draco passed him off to Gregory with a twinge of sadness, but as Gregory put their son to bed, their orange tabby, Mira, jumped up to fill the empty space on Draco's lap. He closed his eyes and laid his head back against the cushion as he waited for his husband, Draco's hand idly caressing Mira's fur until a weight sunk down into the couch next to him. Draco opened his eyes then and twisted until he was half laying in Gregory's lap, the latter running his fingers through Draco's hair.

" Did you remember to respond to Ginny's baby shower invitation?" Gregory asked him lightly, and Draco nodded, cheek rubbing against his thigh.

" I did. We're to be there next Saturday at two, and it's to be a surprise. We're going to have to go into Diagon Alley either tomorrow or Sunday to pick out a gift, though. I won't have time during the week," Draco answered softly, his mind wandering back to the string of weddings they had attended.

Considering the passion that radiated between them, their friends were all certain that Hermione and Ron would be the first ones married, but both Draco and Gregory and Harry and Ginny had beaten them to it while she and Ron were waiting for Hermione to become Minister of Magic. The day she was sworn into office, Ron had her sign the papers, and they had a proper ceremony later that week.

Harry and Ginny had been married two years out of Hogwarts in order to finish out their couple's counselling, something Draco was pleased they'd done. As brash as he thought Ginny could be, Draco grew to love her very dearly. She balanced Harry out, and they made a great team.

Their wedding was a rustic affair, and Draco remembered it fondly. He and Gregory had been in the process of adopting Orion for months leading up to it, and they had received the letter confirming he was theirs the morning of the wedding. Draco could remember only a few days he had been as happy as that day.

In comparison to the rest of them, Draco and Gregory's wedding must have seemed rather shotgun, as they had gotten married only a month after leaving Hogwarts, but they didn't care. Their wedding didn't carry out the Malfoy Opulence people had come to expect from them, but instead was small and intimate and only included one pure white peacock, as opposed to the hundred that were present at his mother's wedding. An affair for friends and family where Draco danced with his husband until he couldn't stand any longer, it was all Draco had dreamed of and more.

Orion had come into their lives three years after their wedding. The orphaned son of an auror Gregory had known well, they could not deny their need to take him in. Draco considered it to be the best decision he'd ever made, next to marrying Gregory, as Orion instantly became a fixture in their family. Full of joy and love, he was adored by his fathers and spoiled absolutely rotten. Draco opened his eyes to find Gregory staring down at him, a smile gracing his lips.

" Gregory?" he asked softly, not wanting to disturb the peace that came with silence.

" Yes, love?" Gregory answered just as quietly as his thumb brushed against Draco's cheek.

" How would you feel about another baby?"

Gregory glanced behind the couch and under the coffee table.

" You haven't got one hidden somewhere around here, have you?"

Draco laughed and gently hit his shoulder, pushing himself into a sitting position.

" I'm serious! You and I both know how lonely it is growing up when it's just you. Even if Orion has the best parents in the world, I think he's going to need that extra support. Besides, can't you just see them now? They'd be best friends, and we could put them in matching outfits!"

Gregory rubbed a hand across his mouth, looking as if he were thinking incredibly hard before he nodded.

" Sure, alright."

" Wait," Draco paused, confused. "Really? Just like that?"

" Why not?" Gregory asked, and Draco grinned as he leaned over to kiss him. "I've been thinking about it too. I'd love to raise another child with you."

Draco felt as though he were made of light as he crawled on top of his husband, their lips connecting once more.

… 

" We're making a lot of reforms at the Ministry these days. We've got a lot of great minds at work. If I'm not drowning in new legislature, my hand feels like it'll fall off from signing off on most of it."

" Yes, I feel like I've gone fully arthritic! Writing all of those letters makes my fingers cramp terribly, and they don't even use most of what I say!"

Sitting between Hermione and Ginny, Draco sipped at the tea in his cup and listened to them talk about their jobs as he thrummed with excitement over the news he was carrying. Ginny had to take a leave of absence from the Holyhead Harpies for her pregnancy, but she was still corresponding with the Prophet ' s Quidditch column weekly to relay how they were doing in the practices leading up to their season. Ginny looked lovely in her sundress, her bump barely showing under the material, and Hermione was occasionally reaching over to touch it. When Hermione turned to Draco and asked him what was new in their lives, he leaned forward excitedly, the secret threatening to burst from him.

" I think Gregory and I are going to adopt another baby." Draco glanced over to where Gregory sat, bouncing Orion on a knee while he talked with Harry and Ron. "Orion doesn't know yet, because we don't want to tell him until it's settled, but we're in discussions with an agent now. Things are looking very promising."

" Congratulations, Draco!" Ginny said, giving him a hug.

" That's so lovely, we'll all have babies around the same time!" Hermione added, and both Ginny and Draco turned to her with mouths agape.

" You're having a baby?!" Draco asked in a whisper.

" Oh!" Hermione threw her hands over her mouth, but she was grinning when she pulled them away. "I promised Ron I'd wait to tell anyone until we saw Molly. You two won't say anything, though! We've only just found out a week ago, it's all still fresh."

Draco and Ginny wrapped her up in a hug, and Draco thought his heart may burst.

… 

Draco was grinning, Orion's tiny hands in his own as he spun his son around the kitchen to Celestina Warbeck's "Hot Cauldron of Love", Cassiopeia laughing like mad from her highchair. Her wispy blond hair was gathered to the top of her head in a sort of bun and secured by a tiny green clip in the shape of a bow. Draco paused his spinning to boop her nose, setting off another round of raucous giggles. Two tiny teeth revealed themselves in her smile, and Draco's heart melted as her owlish grey eyes sparkled back at him.

Draco swayed his hips to the rhythm of the music and used the spatula in his hand as a microphone as he spread some more Cheerio's on Cassie's tray, a development she was apparently pleased with as she shoved fistfuls of them into her mouth. Turning back to the cake batter he was working on, he scraped a bit up with a spoon which he then offered to Orion.

" How's that taste, baby?" he asked, ruffling his hair.

Orion simply grinned and resumed dancing with the spoon in his mouth, bouncing across the hardwood.

" Yes!" Orion cried, using his most recent favourite word as he took up Draco's free hand and pulled at him until Draco left the mixing bowl to dance once more.

Draco found he was unable to accomplish any real cooking until Orion and Cassie were down for their daily naps. It was only then that Draco was able to get the cake in the oven and finish preparing dinner. Gregory wouldn't be home for another hour or so, and Draco was determined to have everything ready by the time he walked through the door. Setting the timer on the counter, Draco crept off to the living room to (finally) sit down. The children had woken him up at five that morning, so as Draco slumped back against the couch, his head falling to rest against the cushion behind him, it was no surprise that his eyes eventually fluttered shut.

When they opened again, it was to the smell of smoke. Draco leapt up from the couch and burst into the kitchen, throwing the oven door open, but it was too late. The cake was scorched, and the casserole he had prepared was burnt beyond salvaging. It was then that Orion bounded down the steps and into the kitchen, wrinkling his nose at the smell.

" What's that? What happened, daddy?"

" Daddy fell asleep and burnt dinner, baby," Draco sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

As if his luck couldn't get any worse, the front door opened, and Orion ran to greet Gregory with a cry of joy.

" What's that smell?" Draco could hear Gregory asking from the front door.

" Daddy fell asleep, and now dinner's on fire!" Orion cried, and Draco heard his tiny feet running back up the steps to his bedroom.

Gregory found Draco in the same position Orion had left him in, his nose pinched tightly between his fingers. Draco could hear the little sigh that left his lips and prepared himself for disappointment when he felt Gregory's arms slip around him and pull him against his chest. Draco's shoulders relaxed as Gregory's nose pushed into his hair and left a kiss at the crown of his head before travelling down to his ear.

" So, takeout?"

...

It was a hot July night as Draco sat down at the dinner table to wait for Gregory. He had put on the black turtleneck and dark muggle jeans he knew Gregory liked so much on him and set the table with their favourite meal, a bottle of wine centred between them. There would be no stomp of tiny feet, nor the cry of too loud voices, nor tugging of small hands on shirts that night as Cassie and Orion had an often-begged-for sleepover at Nan's. Narcissa was only too happy to oblige them, and had practically kidnapped the now four and six year olds. Draco missed his children a little bit already, but anticipation for the night to come kept the worry at bay.

After a while, Draco glanced down at his pocket watch. It was six, Gregory was a half hour late. Draco shrugged it off.

Seven. Draco had a glass of wine.

Eight. Draco had another.

Nine. And another.

Ten. Draco packed up the food and swapped the wine for Firewhiskey.

Eleven. Draco was scratching his fingernail idly against a spot on the table and holding back tears.

It was nearly midnight when Draco finally heard Gregory push open the door. Disappointment and anger sat heavily in his throat, crushing his windpipe, and as his husband entered the kitchen to find Draco sitting at the table, it did not dissipate.

" You're late," Draco choked out around his feelings. "Six hours late. Where have you been?"

" There was a hard case at the office today. I meant to send you an owl, but I guess I forgot."

Despite his heroic efforts until that point, angry tears sprang into Draco's eyes, and he was glad for a different reason this time that he had sent Orion and Cassie to stay the night with his mother.

" You forgot? Seems like you've forgotten a lot today," Draco answered bitterly.

" What's that supposed to mean?" Gregory shot back.

" It's the thirtieth," he said, the tears finally spilling from his eyes.

Gregory's face fell, his shoulders sagging as he realized the weight of that day. He had forgotten their anniversary.

" Draco, I'm so sorry-"

" I've been expecting you since six," Draco threw back at him. "I kept waiting for you to walk through the door. I thought that something must be wrong, there was no way you could have stood me up, but I suppose in a way I was right about that."

Gregory was quiet, too quiet, and it gave Draco time to stew even further in the thoughts he'd had all evening.

" Do you even love me anymore?"

Draco knew the words were unfair, and he regretted them the moment he saw the pain on Gregory's face, but it was too late.

" Of course I do. How could you say that?" Gregory asked, shellshocked.

Draco tried to rein in the irrational voice in his ear, but as the tears came from his eyes, he could no longer hold it back.

" How could I not?" he yelled, gesticulating wildly between them. "You're rarely home anymore, and when you are, you've got your nose in a file, or you come in after we've all gone to bed! You haven't touched me in months, Gregory, not since Christmas. We knew two kids were going to be hard with our jobs, and I'm sorry that I'm so gross when you get home every day. But I thought this was what you signed up for-" the tears came faster as Draco sobbed around his words, "I thought this was what you wanted, but am I wrong? Because if I am, and you don't love me, I need you to tell me—oomph!"

Gregory threw himself across the space between them and cut Draco off with a deep kiss, holding him in a tight embrace as Draco cried. Draco shut his eyes tightly and threw his arms around Gregory's neck with fervour, as if he thought he'd lose hold of him forever if he released him now. Gregory eventually broke away from Draco's lips, and Draco buried his face in his husband's chest, realizing as his head felt damp that Gregory was crying too.

" Of course I love you, Draco, of course I do. Every day I am so lucky to be with you and our perfect, beautiful family. You are my husband, and I love you with every breath in me. I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry that I forgot today. There's no excuse, but if you never believe anything I say to you again, believe that I love you."

Draco pushed himself up to Gregory's lips once more, locking them in a kiss that said all of the things Draco didn't have to. They didn't break apart even as Gregory dropped his briefcase in favour of picking Draco up and retreating to their room.

When Draco woke up the next morning, head resting on Gregory's chest, he knew they would be okay.

…

Cassie and Orion, eight and ten now, were running after James and Albus, Rose and Hugo in their wake as they made their mad dash for the sea. Draco sat under the large umbrella he and Gregory had brought to shield his fair skin from the sun, his back against a lounge chair and a book in his lap. Gregory sat in the camping chair next to him, holding Draco's hand as if it were something precious and chatting with Harry about Ginny's season with the Harpies as she and Hermione fussed over tiny Lily.

Draco watched with a small smile as Lily whinged and tried to break free of Ginny's grasp, her mother simply trying to put sunscreen on her before she could send her off to join their horde of children. Draco mused on the problem before him before he spotted a particularly pretty shell in the sand next to him. Draco bent down and retrieved it before he held it up for Lily to see, and she reached for it immediately with a tiny fist.

" Gimme, Uncle Draco," she demanded without a hint of shame, pulling a laugh from him.

" You can have this once your mum's done, alright? I'll keep it safe for you."

At that, Lily reluctantly stood still long enough for Ginny to slather her in sunscreen, her tiny fists snatching the shell offered to her before she toddled off down the beach after her brothers and cousins. Draco watched with a sense of peace while they all played together in the surf., shrieks of delight carrying as the waves buffeted them.

They ate hot dogs over a fire once it got dark, and cautious hands pulled children away from the fire more often than not. Woodsmoke clung to Draco's clothes and hair for long after they returned to the house on the beach to put the children to bed, and once Orion and Cassie were asleep, Draco took his husband's hand in his own and led him idly down the beach under the light of a full moon.

The moonlight reflected beautifully off the ocean and illuminated the path before them, chilly water washing up over Draco's bare feet as the tide rolled in. Gregory spun him as they sloshed through the waves, kicking water up onto their trousers, and Draco laughed as he pulled his husband in for a long kiss, longing to capture this moment in his mind. Just him and Gregory and the moonlight forever.

…

The Malfoy-Goyles stood quietly on Platform 9 ¾ on September 1st, 2013. Cassie gripped Orion's hand as tightly as Draco did Gregory's, all of them struggling to fight back the tears. It wasn't as though Draco wouldn't see his son often, but the thought of returning home every evening to a house without Orion in it was unheard of. It had been a difficult discussion between Draco and Gregory to even bring him to King's Cross when they could have just sent him up the hill to the castle and spent a few more short, precious hours with him, but Gregory had insisted that Orion needed to experience everything his classmates did if he were to assimilate successfully.

When the time finally came for Cassie to let go of her brother's hand, she wailed and buried her face in Gregory's cloak, leaving Draco to gather a panicked looking Orion in his arms.

" You're going to be fantastic, love," Draco murmured, resisting the urge to press a kiss to the top of his head. "You'll make lots of new friends, and I'll see you every day for potions. You just let me know whether you want your friends to know I'm your dad, and I'll play along, alright?" Draco teased, pulling him back to look at him and fighting tears of his own. "I'll be at your Sorting, and I'll tell Papa and Cassie what house you're in, or I can wait if you want to write and tell them yourself."

Orion nodded, pulling a brave face as he brushed the tears off his cheeks and straightened his shoulders.

" I don't mind if you tell them," he answered bravely, but his face fell into anxiety once more as the train whistle blew. "I guess it's time then?"

Draco mustered the bravest smile he could and nodded, cupping his son's cheeks between his hands and pressing their foreheads together.

" You'll be wonderful. Just be you," he whispered, just for him, and pulled away to push him gently toward the train. "Now get going before it leaves you behind!"

Orion gave his family a shaky smile before he turned and ran for the train, pulling himself into a car just as the second whistle blew. Draco searched the windows for him until he found his son peering out of one nearby and waving madly. Cassie and Gregory waved back at him, calling their goodbyes, but as the train began moving, Draco kept pace with it the best he could until he ran out of platform to run on. He stayed there until the train turned into a small dot in the countryside, and Gregory's hand slipped into his own. Cassie ran around to his side to hold on to the other, and as they left the train station hand-in-hand, Draco was struck by how lucky he was. It was more than he could have ever dreamed for.


End file.
